


Watch Me Grow

by RainiDayz



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo is up for another adventure, Everybody Lives, M/M, Reunion, Slow Build, not dead, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainiDayz/pseuds/RainiDayz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wait a minute, Balin, are you- are you telling me that Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield is... <em>alive?</em>"</p>
<p>"Aye, laddy. That's exactly what I'm saying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

It was a normal day, as plain and dull as any other as he laid in his armchair, smoking a pipe. The sun was shining, his garden was growing, and the other hobbits about his home were alive and buzzing, laughing heartily and joyously as they should. He content in his hobbit hole, it was warm and comfortable, no less of a home since he had returned and set everything back to normal. Everything was in order, though he wasn't quiet as respectable as he had been when he had left. He sat in front of his hearth and sucked in a breath, releasing it to form a pleasant smoke ring, reminding him of the day a fateful wandering wizard had arrived on his doorstep. It was a normal day, and it was incredibly boring. 

To be honest, Bilbo missed the adventure he had had. He missed the excitement, the journey, he even missed sleeping and eating beside noisy, unmannerly dwarves. He missed the stories Balin would tell him, he missed the pleasant drawings and poems Ori would write, he missed Bombur's entertaining while eating just a bit too much for supper, he missed the mischief of Fili and Kili, but most of all, he missed Thorin. 

The great king under the mountain, the one standing alone to face the pale orc; Thorin had been so unendingly brave during their venture. He had such a fantastic heart, always placing his friends before himself, no matter the scenario. The way he cared for Fili and Kili, stern but no less loving as he raised them through the quest, determined to ensure their safe return to their mother. Even when he was effected by the gold sickness, he still had a place in his heart for Bilbo, gifting him with a vest as strong as a dragon's hide and smiling at him taking an acorn to plant as a precious reward. 

He still hadn't planted it. It had been months since his return, but he hadn't yet found the proper place for it. He wanted it to grow somewhere special, somewhere everyone could see though couldn't reach so's not to be harmed. Somewhere it could never be sicked or chopped down, but only continue to grow and thrive. He pulled the tiny seed from his pocket, looking down as it rolled softly in his hand. He smiled sadly, fondly, at all the memories that came with it. It was hard to bare and before he knew it, a drop of water fell into his hand. 

Bilbo was crying, he knew though he couldn't help it. He had come to terms with the lost of the line of Durin, but it still hurt just as much as the day it had happened. If only he hadn't been thrown aside by that awful orc, if only he could have seen and slipped on the ring, gaining the advantage over Azog. Gandalf was right when he had told him he wouldn't return the same; now he was broken. 

Bilbo covered his mouth as to cover his sobs when there was a knock at his door. Quickly he slid the acorn back into his pocket and ran his hands over his face, sniffling harshly. 

"Coming!" He managed to shout, standing from the chair and padding over to the door, shaking the thoughts from his head and he sniffled once more and blinked a few times, trying to clear the redness from his eyes. He opened the door to greet his visitor, and suddenly they went wide. Standing in his doorway, beard white as snow with a silver cloak and a warm smile on his lips stood an old friend. 

"Hello Bilbo," The dwarf grinned, happy to see the stunned surprise on the hobbit's features. 

" _Balin?_ " At the nod, he instantaneously wrapped his friend into a fierce hug, still not sure if he was believing his eyes. "Come in! Come in, please, you are more than welcome." 

Balin chucked and stepped inside, taking in the room before for him. "Everything is just as I remember." 

"Well I had to get it all back. When I returned, they had been auctioning off everything." 

"Did they now?" The dwarf raised a brow, looking at everything his home had to offer. "Think you were dead?" 

"Presumably." Bilbo remembered quiet well storming up his steps and finding all of his things throw outside his door, and in particular Lobelia Sackville-Baggins making off with his silver spoons. 

"Well, everything seems to be in order now." The dwarf commented as he removed his cloak, handing it up on a nearby hook neatly. 

"Wait a moment," Bilbo blinked and a thought came to him. "Balin, why are you here?" 

Balin turned slowly to meet the hobbit's curious face, his own unnervingly straight. "There's something I needed to talk to you about in person, about... Thorin." 

Bilbo cringed visibly and swallowed hard at the mention of the time, feeling the vulnerability of tearing up once more. He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying act a tad more presentable, if not misplaced nonchalance. "What about him?" 

"It seems that Gandalf's friendship with the elves is more useful than us dwarves would've thought. That one in the white in particular..." Balin paused for a moment, making sure he had the hobbit's fullest attention before he continued, 

"She brought him back."


	2. My Dearest Bilbo,

The world froze around him, his entire body going numb. His head began to spin, thoughts racing too fast for him to even begin to process. His mouth hung open a tad, releasing stuttered noises that were in no way coherent until he managed to refocus.

"Wait a minute, Balin, are you- are you telling me that Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield is... _alive?_ " 

"Aye, laddy. That's exactly what I'm saying." 

If there was ever a moment he could remember feeling so faint, Bilbo would be reminded of when he first read the contract for becoming a burglar. He attempted to speak again, but his words were once again lost in small sounds and incompetence. And so, just like before, he smiled, knowing what would happen, and fell to the ground, passing out in shock. 

"Oh dear," The dwarf looked to the hobbit, showing no signs of waking anytime soon. He sighed and lifted the halfling up by his middle, partially dragging him back into his loft and setting him onto the arm chair. Still no response. 

"Bilbo." He clamped a heavy fist onto the hobbit's lean shoulder and shook it roughly, causing him to stir. "Wake up. This is important." 

Bilbo sat up and straightened himself, moving too quickly and giving himself a mild headache until Balin slowly him by the weight of his hand. "Sorry," He coughed, settling easily into the chair, unwilling to stand when his legs still felt like that of a colt. 

"Balin, what happened? I mean, how is it even possible-" 

"I have no idea!" Balin shrugged, throwing his arms in a mild exaggeration. "All I know is while we were givin' our testaments and good byes, Gandalf showed up with that one she-elf, Gabriel -er, somethin' along those lines..." He paused for a moment, scratching at his head in trying to remember, but cast it aside and continued. "Anyhow, she stepped up to them and started mumblin' all this elvish gibberish. Then she started to glow! Bright as a furnace, she did, but nothin' but pure white light! And her voice got deeper, it was terrifying in honestly. We all thought she was about to curse them or something, so we stood to stop her but Gandalf made sure we didn't intervene. The next thing we knew, all of them were sucking in the biggest breath any of us had ever heard, and started coughing! They all sat up and gazing around at us, shocked as us. Bilbo, they're alive; Fili, Kili, Thorin, they're all alive!" 

Biblo could only sit in wide eyed silence as Balin told the story, laying his head back into the cushions at it's conclusion. He couldn't believe it. Thorin was _alive_. Fili and Kili, they were _**alive**_. Somewhere in Erebor now they were standing tall, laughing merrily or causing mischief or ruling in a stony throne; somewhere in Erebor, they were alive. 

"That sounds... unbelievable." The hobbit finally exhaled, coming to grips with the new lot of information, though not entirely the emotions that came with it. 

"Trust me, I'd say the same had I not seen it for myself. Here," Balin reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded pieced of paper, extending it to Bilbo. "Thorin went ahead an wrote a note you, right after he got his barrings straight." 

"He wrote me this?" Bilbo asked, taking the letter and opening it at the dwarf's nod and aye. His eyes scanned over the rough paper and took in the beauty of the hand writing. It was obviously a bit more rough than his own, having been scratched out by a dwarve's iron hand, but the lettering was absolutely splendid, taking care of every word placed in the lines. 

_My Dearest Bilbo,_

 _My sincerest apologies for not coming to you in person. Since my death, I have been stuck mulled in Erebor with the dealings of Thranduil and Bard, sharing it's wealth. I hope my absence has not disheartened you greatly, and I understand if you cannot go on another venture; however I ask you to come join me in the mountain, so you may truly take your part in all it's spoils and so I may see my beloved friend again, if only for a visit._

 _

Sincerely yours, 

Thorin Oakenshield

_

Bilbo's eyes traced over the signature again and again, watching carefully as if it were to disappear at any moment. He felt like he was dreaming; snuggled deeply into his pillow and shams his mother had made years ago, buried deeply into the blankets and completely unaware of the supernatural idea that his dreams were coming true. He also took note to ignore the slightest bit of redness that came up his neck and onto his cheeks at the terms _dearest_ and _beloved_. Surely he knew they were merely terms of endearment, but that seemed irrelevant out of context. 

He looked up to Balin, who now was fiddling with a small wooden dragon figure (which he had made in the colors of Smaug) on top of the hearth, tapping at it's horns and wings as if he were comparing it to the real thing. 

"What are you doing?" 

The dwarf turned and dropped his hands to his side, clearing his throat. "Nifty little trinket there." He grinned, ignoring the question. "So, what did it say?" 

"You mean he didn't tell you?" 

"Didn't ask to read it." 

Bilbo nodded in understanding and skimmed over the note again. "It says he wants me to come visit him in Erebor." 

"That would be stupendous!" Balin's features lightened at the idea. "Everyone would be dyin' to see you again. Well, hopefully not _dying_... but you get the idea." 

The hobbit thought for a moment and clutched the letter in hand. It had only been a few months since his adventure had ended, but it had felt like years. He greatly missed the never-ending rabble of the dwarves, the laughter, the song- easily one of the most beautiful things Bilbo had ever heard. He could go see them again. He could walk right back out of the Shire, taking a handkerchief this time, and cut through forests and plains or magical doorways and go back to the mountain. To Dale and Mirkwood. He could see Bard and Gandalf again, and he could ask him about the white elf. He could thank her. He could thank her because Thorin was alive. How could he _not_ accept this chance? 

"Alright." He said as he stood, stepping quickly through his home and doing a bit of rummaging. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm gathering my things for Erebor, what does it look like?" 

At that Balin smiled widely, laughing lightly as he followed the hobbit though his hole. "That's the spirit." 

It only took him a few moments to prepare- grab a bit of gold, hide the silver spoons, leave a note saying he was on a visit and would in fact return at some point, and lay the Sting at his side. He wasn't sure if he would need it, but it simply felt right to have it back in place. The two stepped out of the little green door, turning the knob and locking it before heading down the pathway and out of Bag End. They laughed a chatted for a bit, but as they were walking into Bree, Bilbo's expression went blank. 

"What's wrong?" Balin asked, concerned with the idea of the hobbit having second thoughts. 

Bilbo frowned only for a moment, then smiled with a scoff at himself. He turned to Balin and simply said, 

"I forgot my handkerchief."


	3. Hole Sweet Hole

From the outside of the mountain to edge of Dale it could be heard; furnaces roaring, providing the means for hammer, axes, and great stone mallets to craft the finest jewels and treasures in all of Middle Earth. Since the battle with Smaug, a few wandering dwarves returned to their home in Erebor, falling back into their work as if they had never left. They stayed and once again began to thrive, pulling endless precious gems and gold from it's walls.

Deep within it's halls, a meeting was taking place. Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, was seated around a small table with none other than the Elven Lord Thranduil and Bard, The Dragon Slayer. For weeks now they had come to meet somehow, once even in Mirkwood, to discuss the distribution of the mountain's wealth. In short, they had narrowed it down to providing gold to the reconstruction of Dale in exchange for food once they had the adequate means to do so; and handing over the starlight jewels to Thranduil and the elves, in an attempt to promote good relations and in trust they will be willing to aid the dwarves if they were to ever need it in the future. 

At the moment, the discussion was thrown mostly between Thorin and Bard, deciding on how much aid to give his people while they were rebuilding. 

"We have fishermen," Bard explained. "And farmers who have started to make work of the land. We only need people to go out and get us some supplies. In truth, we don't need much as long as we're staying here for shelter." 

"You'll follow the river?" The man nodded. Thorin agreed and wrote out the terms, then pulled a small bag of heavily wrapped gold and threw it to the dragon slayer. 

"What's this for?" 

"Your family. For all the help you've given us, even when I was unable to accept." 

Bard opened the pouch slightly and glanced inside, bright coins clinked against each other lightly. The offer was very tempting, but he tied it shut and set it back across the table to the dwarf. 

"I can't take this." 

Thorin raised a brow. "Why not?" 

"Because my people don't need any other reason to install me. They keep trying to make me their King." 

"And, what is wrong with being a King?" Thranduil spoke finally, both his and the dwarf's eyes settling on the man. Bard's features progressed slightly. 

"Nothing is wrong with being a king." He said, watching both the lords carefully for their reactions. "It is just not a position I want to be in." 

"Why not?" The elf asked curiously. "They are already your responsibility, you may as well take the title." 

Silence fell for a moment, eyes on the man as he seemed to consider the thought, but after another shook his head and held firm. 

"Not at this time." Thranduil nodded at his decision and Thorin placed the gold back in his pocket, reading over his notes. 

"Alright," He made the final denominations. "I will have the gold delivered to the northern entrance to Dale by the end of this week, and I shall have a few of my dwarves deliver anymore of the starlight gems we find in that time." 

All in agreement they stood, shaking hands before Thorin led them out of Erebor. Once they had departed, the king wandered through his halls and back into his room. The sleeping chamber of a king was to behold, sparkling with encrustments and bed mad up with satin sheets and warm fur blankets. A small part of him would occasionally hope to have a fur made of a white warg's pelt, but that was an idea he'd rather displace. If there was ever a time anyone in Erebor needed him while he wasn't busy, this is where he may be. 

Not since he had lived had he returned to that golden throne room for fear of the sickness that would once again entrance him. Any gold from that room to be delivered was done by one or a number of other dwarves, never himself and any he came into contact with he kept wrapped up tightly and out of sight. Though it hadn't effected them yet, Thorin made sure Fili and Kili were never allowed to enter that room, for he could not bare to see it's effect a third time. With his grandfather it had simply been obsession; a never leaving, never ending need to be around that gold. But for himself, it had been so much worse. 

He had become obsession, cold, untrusting, uncaring; he had cast everyone aside, except for Bilbo. The hobbit had been the only one he had managed to trust, and then when he had acted as a true friend should, the king had nearly strangled him. He could still remember his words, clear as a hammer's strike, 

_"You are changed, Thorin!"_

He had nearly shouted, not wavering by the king's misplaced wrath. Bilbo had stood tall and strong, fighting against him as he spoke, 

_"The dwarf I knew would never come to suspect his own kin of betrayal!"_

That had certainly been one of his darkest moments. How incredible the effects of the gold had been, to change him entirely, to force him into trying to kill one of his greatest friends. The thought alone made him fume with anger, then followed with utter sorrow in the remembrance that not long after, when he had cleared his head from the fog and the burglar fought beside him once more, he had only succeed in killing Azog; leaving behind him a kingless home and a broken hobbit. 

He could still feel the pain in Bilbo's voice, the way it cracked as he tried to convince himself everything would be okay. The way his face had hovered so close to his own, tears welling along his eyes and pouring like rain. He wanted nothing more than to believe that after his death, the burglar went back to him homely little hole, ate himself a big meal, planted his tree, and sat by his hearth, smoking a pipe. Whether it was true, he did not know. 

When he had sat up sharply from darkness, breathing in enough air to shatter his lungs, he had been so shocked, so joyously astounded not much could be done. He had immediately swooped his unready nephews into a bone crushing hug and greeted all of his companions. He spoken shortly with Galadriel, who was far too faint after her magical workings, and had merely thanked her before Gandalf had taken her away for resting. He soon after felt in himself a similar feeling, and all the Durin had been put into watch for the next couple weeks, healing to the point they couldn't get any healthier before the king decided to do business on his own. 

All the time for the next few weeks, dwarves would run up to him, asking repetitively if he needed anything, as if he were going to drop dead again any second. Each time he had rejected the offers, becomingly increasingly annoyed to the point he held a massive gathering of all the dwarves to get them to stop. It wasn't until later he found Balin, who had been pretty persistent himself, that he finally dallied out a task. 

_"I need you to deliver a letter for me."_

Since Balin's departure, Thorin had been waiting, pondering what would come if Bilbo was to accept him. The thought he may not frightened him. Perhaps the hobbit had moved on, living peacefully, but a piece of him selfishly wanted the burglar to come back to him, abandoning the Shire and living in Erebor among the dwarves, honorably by his ruling. He would have the finest clothing and gems, the best food they could prepare, and like Balin or Dwalin, Thorin could see him everyday; listen to his stories and his ideas, have him as a much desired companion on any of his travels to elven kingdoms, and just keep him grounded when the stress of it all become too much for him. 

In a way, he was conflicted because while he was happy the little hobbit had made it back to his hole, he secretly wished that Erebor would become his new home.


	4. Surprise! Not Dead!

The journey from the Shire had been a surprisingly short one; where as before it had taken Thorin and his company months to reach the mountain, Bilbo and Balin had managed the feat in a few days. This was due to all the useful magical doorways that Gandalf had pointed out to the dwarf before he headed out. Of course, this raised Bilbo'squestioning in the matter of why they simply had not traveled that way to begin with, but Balin had explained (as Gandalf explained to him) that these doorways hang in the balance of reality- it is split between two plains of stretched out land that in no way should form a connection, however those who created it were able to create portals all over Middle Earth. They had no rhythm or rhyme to them, they were simply placed where those who placed them wanted to go. But they were delicate and frail, much like if one were to tamper with time. Over-loading these doorways could not only cause them to slam shut and be obliterated, but the people who were crossing though them as well. Gandalf had been willing to take the chance against the wargs, but any other was out of the question.

Regardless of the never ending magic of the doorways of equilibrium, Bilbo now found himself standing outside the great stone walls of Erebor. As he gazed up at the mountain, his stomach locked up in knots and his feet felt planted to the ground. So many thoughts raced through his head, all concerning the dwarve's reaction to him. He knew others were there now, working and mining deep in the earth. How would they react if a _hobbit_ of all things just strolled through their doors and marched straight up to their king? 

"It'll be fine, Bilbo." Balin spoke, as if reading his thoughts. "No one's gonna take a mind to you. They've all heard about you by now." 

The hobbit furrowed his brows a bit. "They've heard about me?" 

"Of course. You are the burglar who helped us take back the mountain after all. You stood against Azog, freed us from spiders of Mirkwood and Thranduil's prison, stole the Arkenstone from Smaug; everybody knows about you." 

"Yes... that's not intimidating..." Bilbo turned from his and looked back to Erebor with concern. Sure, he had done all those things, but he was still a hobbit after all, and intended to act like one. He couldn't mine or strike anvils, he read books and had afternoon tea. _Could they reprimand him for that?_

"If all else fails, Thorin will make sure nobody gives you any trouble." Balin assured, seeing the anxiety on his face. "I'm sure none of them would be willin' to cross their king." 

With that Bilbo nodded, though none the more confident, and stepped through the doorway with Balin leading. As they went through the halls, dwarves of all beards and sizes had their eyes locked onto the hobbit. 

"Why are they all staring at me?" Bilbo asked just above a whisper as they passed a heavier set dwarf with a blonde beard that twisted together like two ropes and dangled down to his knees. Balin chuckled. 

"You're the stuff of legend around here. They can probably, hardly believe their eyes." 

" _Legend?_ " 

"We went through this once, Bilbo, you're our burglar. And while I knew a good bit of these dwarves before our quest, as did most of us, you're entirely new to them. Meanin' you'll just need to give them some time to get used to seein' you around." 

The hobbit once again settled into agreement and followed the path that was given to him, trying his best to greet the stares with smiles that were warm, but ended being a tad crooked. They headed back into the more private part of the mountain, passing the bedrooms of the -Ri, -In, -Lin, and -Ur brothers. When they reached the king's chamber's, Balin started back down the hall. 

"Wa- Where are you going?!" Bilbo asked in a hushed whisper of a shout. The dwarf waved. 

"Go on now, I don't need to hold your hand." He didn't turned back and simply ignored the other fragments of protests that fell from the hobbit's lips. Bilbo let out a breath of agitation and pursed his lips in thought. He had absolutely no idea how to go about doing this, though he had had days to think about it. It wasn't as if he could simply stroll in and and say _Thorin! Hi! Glad to see you're not **dead**!_ But what else was he supposed to say? There had been so little time before his death to do anything, let alone say anything. He felt a lump growing in his throat at the remembrance. 

He swallowed hard and cast the thought aside, recomposing himself as he stared at the door. He lifted his hand and knocked three times. 

"Come in," A muffled rumbled of a voice granted, Bilbo nearly jumped back at the sound. It was his voice. Wringing his fists a bit he lifted a hand, shaking slightly as he took hold of the knob. 

Nearly silent, the hobbit pushed the door open to the room, all of it's splendor lost to the sight of the dwarf leaning against the mantle. He looked up, eyes widening as if he had seen a ghost (which in Bilbo's case he'd argue his was more so). 

"Master Baggins..." Was all he could manage to say at the sight, both still in an almost uncertain disbelief. 

"Hello, Thorin..." Bilbo responded, watching as a small smile creeped onto the dwarf's face as he crossed the room to hug him tightly. He returned the gesture and wrapped his small arms as far around the larger frame as he could, shutting his eyes in a state of incredulity as a warmth spread through his body. 

"It is good to see you, my friend." The king finally spoke, pulling back as his smile remained. "I was uncertain of whether or not you would come." 

Bilbo's brows furrowed slightly. "Why wouldn't I?" 

Thorin was silent for a moment, as if trying to find an answer for his question when the sound of two very distinct, and very loud sets of boots came charging down the hallway full speed. 

"Bilbo Baggins!" Kili grinned madly as the two youngest of Durin's entered and crushed the hobbit between them. 

"We thought we'd never see you again!" 

"It's great to see you!" 

"Pleasure to see you too," Bilbo choked out, freeing himself from the dwarve's unmeaningly harsh grasps. 

"We'll have to arrange a feast tonight to celebrate your arrival." 

"A feast?" 

"Good idea Kili. We'll have spiced beef and roast lamb..." 

As the two trailed off into various foods and alcohols to be arranged, and Bilbo protested in saying there was really no need for such trouble, Thorin rested a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. 

"Let them be," He encouraged, gaining Bilbo's attention. "They've been eager for your arrival since Balin told them I invited you. It'll be no trouble to them." 

The hobbit sighed and nodded, giving up in hopes for the best as the two brothers headed back out of the chambers. 

"Bilbo, are you coming?" Kili and Fili waited patiently in the doorway, expectant looks on their faces coming across not so subtly. 

"Well I..." He turned back to Thorin. The king was unmoved for a moment, but soon glanced away, a gesture Bilbo knew by now that meant he was dismissed. "I suppose so..." 

The Durin's grinned and continued back down the hallway, Bilbo following behind until he reached the door frame. 

"See you at supper?" 

Thorin looked to him in subdued surprise, but seemed pleased nonetheless. "Wouldn't miss it." He assured, gaining a smile of approval from the halfling as he exited his room. 

When Bilbo had left, the silence of his room seemed all too noticeable. The soft warmth of the hobbit's voice had vanished and he was left merely to his thoughts. The dwarf could nearly swear his chest had gotten tighter, and his arms and hands were cold where the hobbit had once been in his embrace, but overall he was happy. His hobbit had chosen to return, for now the reason mattered not. All that mattered was that he was here; they could speak at another time. But he would have to remember to scold his nephews later for their interruption... 

By the time dinner rolled around, all fourteen members of the company were seated around a large table, surrounded by enormous piles of delicious food and never-ending laughter, and Bilbo had been given enough bone-crushing hugs to feel the welcome the next morning. The hobbit found himself locked rubbing elbows between Fili and Kili, not that he minded. He listened to the jokes and stories being tossed about, though some a bit crude, and cast his eyes down the way to glance curiously at Thorin who seemed to be in silent observance of the party while all the while muttering to Balin. The king under the mountain turned for a moment, meeting his eyes to which the hobbit responded with a small smile. Without much of a change in features, Thorin turned back to Balin and Bilbo resumed watching the chaos and flying food that took place before him. 

After the party, Fili and Kili walked Bilbo back through the halls, leading him to the open bedroom next to their own while discussing the idea of sparing before bed when Thorin finally stepped in to intervene. 

"Boys, give Master Baggins some air." Fili and Kili obeyed, each shuffling just a tad bit away from the burglar. "He's had a long journey and is no doubt in need of rest." Bilbo nearly objected, but his words seemed to remind him that his feet were aching slightly and he wouldn't mind a bed. 

The younger Durins agreed and gave their final good nights and ' _Be seeing you in the morning_ 's followed by a unintentionally rough clap on the shoulder. The hobbit rotated it and watched with Thorin as the boys departed, the king then speaking, 

"Allow me to show you to your room." 

The two walked by each other's side, just short of shoulder to shoulder. Silence fell between them in a deafening way until Bilbo cleared his throat. 

"So... you're back." He nearly slapped himself, having thought of nothing better to say. Thorin's lips merely turned upwards as he turned. 

"I wasn't gone long. Galadriel, the white elf, brought me back the same day, as I am told." 

Bilbo nodded, memorizing the name and cursing himself for having left so soon after the battle. "I couldn't stay..." He admitted quietly, partially ashamed of how he had ran off, not wanting to deal with the pain. 

"I do not blame you." Thorin assured, stopping to look down directly at the hobbit. "It must have been hard on you. I hold no umbrage for your departure, in fact I'm glad you left." 

Again the dwarf found himself gazing upon that curious face, brows furrowing and head tilting slightly. 

"Why is that?" 

Thorin was silent before a small smile graced his lips. "Because you returned home." 

At that Bilbo's features softened and he went silent, as if he was stunned by what he was hearing. He lowered his gaze and allowed the king to set pace again, marching though the hallway and up to two great doors. 

"Here is where you'll be staying." Thorin explained, pushing the left door open and stepping aside. The hobbit walked in, eyes bulging from his head and jaw nearly dropping to the floor. 

In the room, their were no fine golden fixtures or overly extravagant decorum, instead the room was fitted and comfortable, with homely items such as a writing desk and a shelf of books in the corner. The bed was placed just above the ground, at his height, and had warm looking blankets that were quilted with the exception of one large fur. There was a small hearth, crackling a low flame and above were little statuettes and various figures, all of which were simple, yet elegant in their own way. 

"Do you like it?" Thorin asked, breaking the hobbit away from his awe of splendor. 

"Do I _like_ it?" He repeated, scoffing at the dwarf as he looked over the room once more before facing him. "It's amazing! Thorin, this is incredible! How did you even manage-" 

"I may have asked Bard for a hand in the trading. It's an odd thing looking for fixtures fit for a hobbit." 

Again Bilbo scoffed, taking in the wonder of his new room. "Thorin, this... I have no idea how to thank you." 

The dwarf simply smiled, always surprised by the creature before him. So grateful in receiving what dwarves would consider little. It was strange, though enjoyable, to him in the fact that the hobbit could be so much happier, so much more _comfortable_ in a hole in the ground than surrounded by all the gold and jewels of Erebor. 

"You do not have to." He assured, being rewarded with a fond smile from the other. "If you need anything at all, I am the next doorway down. Good night, Bilbo." 

"Good night... Thorin." 

As his door closed and heavy footsteps retreated, Bilbo continued to marvel at the sight and detail of his room. Everything so carefully planned and tailored for _him_. His curiousity led him to the bookshelf, eyes reading over the spines to find book of all kinds, ranging from titles like _The Silmarillion_ and _Twist and Shout._ Certainly he would have to read each and every one of them. He would also have to find some way to thank Thorin for all of it, for all the work it must have taken him. 

He then glanced over to his bed, the covers looking quiet inviting as his exhaustion began to catch up with him. He stripped off his jacket, vest, and suspenders as well as his trousers and set them aside neatly beside his things. He then climbed under the sheets, silken and as soft as the back of the eagles they had riden to Carrock. Within only a few moments, Bilbo fell into a deep sleep, smiling and feeling quiet at home inside the mountain.


	5. A Restless Realization

Thorin was restless in his room, tossing and turning with no real chance of sleep appearing to him. Eventually he gave up and decided to take a walk, clearing his head. He decided against putting on his boots so's not to wake the guest next door. The stony floor was cold against his bare feet, and he began to wonder how the hobbit could walk anywhere without any kind of shoe, whether it be snow or sand, rock or grass. Now that he thought about it, how did he manage? Those feet had marched over a slippery mountainside where giants were heaving rocks, and yet he still was able to keep a surprising balance to his footing. The dwarf would have to applaud him for that later.

He departed his room and headed down the quieted hallway, running his hands over and through his hair, pushing it from his face. In the distance there was only the subtlest sound of a single furnace; the one that was used late into the evening as the night owls worked into resting hours. He wandered into one of the common rooms, finding Balin contently sitting with a book in hand. 

"It's late," He commented, not looking up from the pages. Thorin took the seat across from him. 

"Indeed, it is." 

"You should be sleepin'." 

"As should you be." 

At last, Balin's eyes appeared over the cover, locking onto the king's in a bit of a stare off, but with no real intention behind it. Thorin didn't break his gaze until after the elder dwarf sighed, closing the book. 

"Alright," He set it aside, settling into his seat. "What's got you so worked up now?" 

Thorin tried to collect his thoughts, but inevitably inwardly growled at himself. 

"He will be the death of me, Balin." 

"I can tell, judgin' by the way you were speakin' at dinner." 

Earlier that evening, Thorin had been struck with such an emptiness about him once Fili and Kili had taken Bilbo to make celebratory preparations. The room was colder and quieter once he had left. The dwarven king had merely tried to brush off the feeling, but it had stuck with him until he saw his burglar again at supper. Such a cozy, cheerful smile graced his lips and matched perfectly with bright green eyes that seemed almost to sparkle with their own laughter at the scenery placed before him. The image downright stupefied him more than he was willing to admit. 

"It seems our Master Burglar down the way there has caught your eye..." 

The staggered king's sights fell immediately to Balin, who sat a bit smugly as he grinned at the king with an all-knowing ambiance. Had Thorin not known better, he would have thought the elder dwarf was mocking him. 

"It is pleasurable to see a good friend after such times and circumstances." The dark haired dwarf asserted with a glare. The white haired dwarf was unshaken as he contended, 

"Aye. But he seems quiet pleasurable to _you_ in particular." 

Thorin's glare only increased as a joyous uproar rocked the table and what felt like the very hall. The king lowered his voice. 

"Must you insist on such an inane idea?" Again Balin gave nothing in his intent, looking into Thorin as if there was something he himself couldn't see. 

"Is it really so inane? Look at him." After a bit of pestering the king turned, looking back to the hobbit to find his gaze already met. "You see that? He's been keepin' an eye on you as well. Couldn't stop askin' about you on the trip either." 

At the hobbit's small smile, Thorin was reminded of his insensibility and turned back to Balin. 

"It's normal to wonder about people who have _come back from the **dead**_." 

"True, but he was askin' about you, not so much Fili and Kili. He was worried about them too, of course, but kept askin' about how you were feelin' and how things were here. And he was completely rattled by the thought of you goin' into that throne room." The king's gaze softened slightly, Balin knowing fully well he had captured his attention. 

"He was concerned?" 

"For _you_." Thorin remained silent, to which the elder dwarf added, "The only person you're foolin' about this is yourself. And you never know. Perhaps he sees it too." With a hard clap on the shoulder he finished, leaving the king to his thoughts. 

The rest of the dinner, Thorin remained unvoiced as he picked and pulled at his troubling emotions. It was during their first journey to Erebor when the thoughts had first crossed his mind and he had instantly denied them, pushing them aside at the reasoning he was merely grateful to have been wrong about the hobbit. The creature so soft and fragile had stood up to ocrs and wargs, goblins and a dragon; it was such a dramatic change yet his heart remained the same, vowing to help them retrieve their home if he could. Surely, this surge of emotion he had felt for the halfling came straight from appreciation and nothing more. 

He had then noticed it in the mountain, once the sickness of gold had begun to poison his mind. Though he had spun the hobbit around expecting to find the Arkenstone in his hands, he had found only a solitary acorn, his keepsake. A small treasure that once again made him marvel at the innocence of the creature. He even went on to call him, rather than Balin or Dwalin, when he was fooled into believing his kin would be involved in his betrayal. Again he had shoved all of this aside, blaming the gold for making him believe his fear laid only among the dwarves, but not finding any way to excuse his idea of the hobbit's innocence to be captivating. 

Finally, when he had woken from his own death, he found the first of his thoughts to be about the hobbit. _Where is Bilbo? Is he still here? Has he gone home?_ It had been Bifur to inform him the hobbit had already departed, and he had felt his heart sink. For the next few days he held felt it's weight in the fact he had not been given the chance to share Erebor's splendors or in the very least say a proper goodbye. He had insisted on going to retrieve the hobbit himself, though he was denied the opportunity until the other dwarves deemed him fully healed. After that, Bard had shown up and once again asked help for his people, Thranduil soon after that. Taking his role as king prevented him from leaving the mountain for any extended period of time, as so he ended up sending Balin, who seemed a bit conceited in receiving the task. 

Now it was all dawning on him that this was one battle he could not continue to fight. He had unmistakably fallen for the hobbit, and it terrified him more than Smaug or Azog ever did, perhaps even more so than the gold sickness. What it came down to wasn't a matter of race or gender, home or differences, but the very idea that it was _their burglar_ that racked his nerves. Bilbo had been such an important _friend_ to him, one that showed no interest in any further form of desire or romantic inclination. If he were to noticeably court him, would he be disgusted? Would the hobbit reject all notions of a deeper relationship and leave as if it had been an insult? More so, how did one even begin to court _a hobbit_? Surely it was a much different task than that of courting another dwarf, and none under the mountain or to Dale or into the forest of Mirkwood would know how. So how could he manage? 

Recapping all this information, Thorin sighed, chagrined and malcontented with it all though still not quiet willing to ask for help. 

"Balin, I am tired of this." 

"Than do something about it." The elder dwarf urged. "He's a hobbit. He isn't goin' to bite you." 

"How would I even start-" 

"You _have_ started." Thorin paused for an explanation at Balin's interruption. "Look at the room you had made up for him. It took you nearly a week to prepare it all, and another havin' Bard scout out the various means to do so." 

The king remembered appointing the dragon slayer with the task. The man had raised a brow, a surprised expression on his face as he questioned whether or not the hobbit would return. On the response of uncertainty, he seemed even more so, but agreed to help nonetheless. 

"It's merely a room." 

"You took the time to make everything exactly the way it is for him." 

“That proves nothing.” 

“That proves you care about him.” Balin waited, watching as understanding came into Thorin’s features. “You wanted to make sure he was just as comfortable here as he is in Shire. You wanted to see him happy.” 

“Of course I did.” Thorin agreed, feeling a lump growing hard in his throat. The elder dwarf smiled warmly, as if he were watching the last bit of a visionary romance novel unfold before him. 

“Then you started to show him you have feelings for him. For a hobbit, it doesn’t have to be some grand gesture to prove you’re doting on him, you just have to keep doin’ what you’re doing. Keep caring for him.” 

Thorin stared at his friend for a moment before looking aside and casting himself into his thoughts. Perhaps he was right. Maybe he was wrong. Either way, the king knew he had just taken the first few steps of a new journey entirely, unlike anything he had ever done or experienced before, and he had a long way to go.


	6. Not My Division

When Bilbo woke the next morning, he was found himself grinning like a fool despite not immediately recognizing his surroundings. It took a moment for his memory to come back to him, and upon realizing he was in Erebor, he found himself smiling a bit more. He stretched and sat up, taking in a deep breath and releasing it in contentment as his eyes wandered about his room once more. For certain, he would find a way to thank Thorin. He then stood and got himself dressed, then headed out into the hallway in search of breakfast. He took three steps before he realized he had no idea where the dining hall was and froze in dubiety. 

He pondered for a moment simply returning to his room, but if he did he was sure he would never come out. He nearly knocked on Thorin’s door, but that seemed rude to him to interrupt someone while they were sleeping, let alone a busy king. So inevitably he opted for simply continuing down the hall, hoping he would either run into someone who could help him or he would find it on his own. Surprisingly, he didn't feel as much out of place as he would have expected. The ceiling were tall and the walk way wide, but it didn't have the feeling of that of a man’s building. The design of the mountain itself seemed as endless as it was vast, though instead of feeling small he easily felt immersed in it's splendor and, in a way, it added to his comfort. 

As he walked, the sound of heavy foot falls and echoing hammers and axes became louder, not really assuring him of whether his direction was correct or not. He went down various hallways and corridors, finding none useful to him and no dwarves to help him, even if a few had stared as they rushed by. His patience was wearing thin, realizing he was only becoming more lost, when he turned a sharp corner and ran straight into a wall of a person. 

“Sorry! So sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I’m a bit lost and I...” He began rambling off a quiet red-faced apology when he looked up, stopping at the recognition of his face. “Bofur.” 

“Oh, hello Bilbo!” The hatted dwarf smiled pleasantly. “What are you doin’ heading down into the mines?” 

“The _mines_?” The hobbit sputtered incoherently for a moment, baffled by the thought of blindly heading down into an unending hole of sharp rocks and passionately working dwarves. “Uh, no. I wasn’t meaning to. Erm,-Can you tell me where the dining hall is?” 

“I was headed that way now myself actually. Come on, I’ll show you!” 

Bofur led Bilbo back through the endless halls, being sure to take the time to point out various works in the architecture and decorations, helping the hobbit in trying to create a mental map of landmarks. The path itself ended up being not too complicated, much less so than he had thought, but he knew he would end up needing a guide more than once in the future. When they reached the hall, they found the table to be seated with Dwalin, Ori, and Nori, who seemed to be having some spat in which the youngest seemed caught in the middle. Bilbo sat down aside from them as Bofur made an attempt at defusing the situation. At first, the hobbit had paid no mind, gathering up the starts to his late breakfast with his stomach growling, but the comments coming from the group caught his attention. 

“Ori, you are much too young to be exhibiting this sort of behavior!” Nori scolded his brother sternly. 

“I’m sixty-eight years old!” 

“ _Just_ sixty-eight years old!” 

“Alright, alright, Nori we get it.” Bofur stepped between the two, focusing on the elder. “You don’t approve of this little arrangement. Care to explain why?” 

“I’m perfectly fine with their arrangement!” Nori huffed, the ends of his hair seeming to ruffle under all his commotion. “What I’m not alright with is the fact I’ve been catchin’ my little brother sneakin’ off into _this one’s **bed chambers at night!**_ ” 

He jabbed a finger in Dwalin’s direction, to which the tattooed dwarf instantly shot back, 

“Well he wouldn’t have to be sneaking about if you weren’t always breathing down his neck!” 

“He’s _my_ brother!” 

“And he’s **_my_** partner!” 

By this point, Bilbo had all but choked on the spoon he had been using to scrape up some raspberry jam. All eyes turned to him and he flushed, starting to form some sort of apology when he was interrupted, 

“You see that?” Nori accused, gesturing to stunned hobbit. “You nearly killed Bilbo with all your nonsense!” 

With that the arguing started back up again, louder than before as Dwalin and Nori went at it, Ori though leaning more towards the bald dwarf, still tried to reason with his brother while Bofur had nearly given up on the whole thing. Bilbo, still rather embarrassed by his reaction, was about to bow out of the hall, smuggling a few cakes with him, when Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Balin walked in. 

“Good gracious what in Mahal’s name is going on?” The oldest dwarf asked, all others involved suddenly turning to him in unconventional interjections and constant griping. 

While Balin went around to sort out the dispute, the Durin line all sat across from Bilbo in a line, Fili, Kili, and Thorin directly in front of him. They greeted each other with variations of 'good morning' and started to gather their meals, though the eldest seemed to merely pick at his own. 

“Thorin, are you alright?” Bilbo finally asked, watching as the dwarf’s food seemed to merely shift on his plate. He saw when he lifted his head the bags that laid under his eyes, in a way it made him more intimidating. 

“I did not get much sleep.” Thorin explained, though it was a lie being as he hadn’t slept at all. “Do you have any interest in traveling to Mirkwood?” 

The hobbit perked up, quickly swallowing his mouthful of sweet nut bread. “Mirkwood?” 

“We’re going to deliver some more of the starlight gems to Thuranduil.” Kili explained, shoving his brother to take at a piece of cake. 

“Whose ‘we’?” 

“You, me, and uncle.” Bilbo looked to the dwarf in question, who made no move to respond. 

“You’re going?” He asked curiously, now a bit more intrigued by the idea. “I thought you couldn't leave Erebor due to your work?” 

“A rest has come. The chance to get out of the mountain for a bit is a rare opportunity in my position.” Thorin answered, looking up to meet the hobbit’s gaze. “Would you care to come with us?” 

Bilbo already knew he wanted to go. He still had such a great admiration for the elves, even though his first encounters with those in Mirkwood weren't very good ones. Now he was even curiouser to see how different they were from Elrond and Rivendell, if there were many at all outside that of the architecture. But there was a certain feature of the way Thorin had asked him to go that made him wonder. Normally, the dwarf would just assume he would be willing (he would be correct, but still it was an assumption.) and simply make the arrangements. This time he had been carefully asked and the look on the king’s face made it seem as though he clearly _wanted_ him to go. 

The intensity of his gaze caused the hobbit to falter, casting his eyes back down to his plate. 

“Yes, I think I'd enjoy visiting the elven kingdom again.” 

“Excellent.” The dwarf stood, leaving his neglected plate to be devoured by someone else. “We will leave in less than an hour. Be sure to bring the Sting with you.” 

“ _The Sting_?” Bilbo stared at him, unsure of what he had heard. 

“There are still spiders in the forest, though not usually on the path that is taken. Just to be safe.” 

The hobbit nodded and watched as the king departed, surprised by the unexpected taking of his sword’s name. He honestly hadn't expected it to stick with himself, let alone the dwarves. He shrugged it off and finished his breakfast, following Kili back through the hallways to gather supplies for their trip. It was in talking to him on what just to bring that a thought came to him. 

“Why are you going?” He asked a bit abruptly, though he hadn't meant it. 

The dwarf merely smiled, unlike Bilbo had seen, and answered, “To see Tauriel.” 

The hobbit thought over the name for a moment, not receiving any recollection of who it belonged to. 

“I’m sorry, who is... Tauriel?” 

“ _Who is T-_ ” Kili nearly stopped in his tracks, glancing back at the halfling whom only seemed to become more confused. Realization swept over him and he grinned, turning sharply into his room. “That’s right. You weren’t here.” 

Bilbo paused in his doorway, unsure if he would receive an answer, though it seemed the name itself had an effect on the dwarf that appeared to make him melt. 

“Um, what wasn’t I here for?” 

“Tauriel is the Captain of the Guard for Lord Thranduil, and my beloved.” At that the hobbit’s brow peaked in surprise, intrigued by how the coupling of an elf and a dwarf came to be. “We actually met while we were in his prison. She was different from the others, a red head. I had caught her eye by my mother’s token, and from there we just talked. She spoke of starlight and memories, and healed me after the orcs had poisoned me. She wept when I had died, and kissed me when I had returned. She’s the most beautiful elf in all of Middle Earth...” 

Towards the end of his explanation, Bilbo could plainly see the passion that fell from each of the dwarf’s words as he trailed off. His eyes gazing outward, as if he could see the memories before him and watch them as they played. A smile laid on his lips as if they were sewn there, never to be undone. It was as clear as crystal he was head over heels in love with her, whoever she was. Certainly he would have to make her acquaintance during the visit. 

“She sounds lovely,” He smiled, gaining an appreciative glace from the other. “How often do you get to see her?” There was a pause before Kili answered, 

“Not much.” His expression darkened slightly and the smile fell away, surprising the hobbit once more. “We only go into Mirkwood when we’re delivering the starlight gems. Tauriel can come only when Thuranduil does, to watch over him. It can be weeks before we see each other.” 

Bilbo was astounded to see just how much the dwarf had changed in a matter of seconds. It almost made him regret bringing up the question all together, but by his Tookish nature he was ever curious. 

“That seems rather difficult...” 

“Aye, it is.” 

"Then, why is it you do it?” Kili met his gaze, brows knitted together in no fashion showing anything other than questioning. “Forgive me, but if you can hardly ever see her, why bother?” 

To this the dwarf let out a chuckle and shook his head, as if knowing something Bilbo did not and confusing him further. He shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated style and grinned. 

“Just the way I am, I guess. I’d rather have her and see her when I can than not have her at all.” 

He then turned and resumed gathering his things, leaving Bilbo to ponder his words. The hobbit left his doorway and continued to his own room, mind running over the thought again and again. 

Surely it must be very difficult for them. To care so much for each other yet always be away, always out of reach. How did they manage, going weeks at a time without seeing each other or feeling each other's embrace? Being alone at night with no one to keep them warm or make them feel at home? That didn’t sit well with him. If he were to find someone he truly wanted to be with, he would want them to stay forever. He couldn’t go what felt like ages at a time without them; it would feel as though if they weren’t even there. Perhaps it was the fact he was a hobbit, but he felt the desire to have someone to wake up with and enjoy meals together. Smoke a pipe and have a chat on a quiet evening or someone to cuddle up to on particularly cold nights. 

He could say little of elves, but he would think dwarves would be the same way by choice. Perhaps less of the cuddling and quiet conversation and more sparring and obnoxious laughter, but they would want their beloved to be close. During their journey to reclaim Erebor, Gloin had mentioned on several accounts missing his wife and son, and how he wanted nothing more than to return them safely. Thorin had wanted the safe return of all his people, but that was entirely different. He had never mentioned wanting to keep anyone in particular safe, besides those of his company, especially Fili and Kili. 

For a moment Bilbo found himself wondering if Thorin really had a companion, and finding himself with a negative conclusion wondering further just what kind of partner he may be searching for. Upon realizing these thoughts he rapidly shook his head, as if trying to force them out. 

“What am I _thinking_?” He asked aloud to himself, pulling together his pack and strapping on his blade. “That is absolutely none of my business.” 

“What is none of your business?” 

Bilbo was quiet certain if the rumble of a voice behind him had startled him anymore, he would have dropped everything in his arms. He jumped at the sound and whipped around, coming face to face with the figure of his earlier thoughts, as if they had summoned him. 

“Thorin, I- I was just...” He traveled off for a moment, earning the slightest quirk of a brow from the king. He resolved to nodding and shoving the idea off. “You know, it’s nothing.” He assured. “Are we ready to head out?” 

“Yes. I assume you’re still familiar with riding ponies?” 

“Oh, I don’t think I could forget.” 

At the jest he received that small smile from Thorin and for whatever reason the hobbit could feel his chest tightening. He wanted to hold the gaze a bit longer but at the same time he was suddenly mortified and forced himself to tear his eyes away and fiddle with the strap of his pack. 

“Good.” The dwarf led the way to the door frame, finding Kili ready a second later. “Let us be off then.” 

Bilbo followed beside Thorin as they marched through the halls once more, still amazed by it’s natural beauty. He kept his eyes off the king as he attempted to shake the awkward feeling from his chest, but it seemed to hold strong as he walked at his side. The hobbit once again found in knots and was both baffled by the feeling he was left with and trying to figure out just what he had been thinking.


	7. We Met in the Gardens

Upon leaving the mountain, the trio was presented with a small set of satchels and group of prepared ponies, each a different color being either black, brown, or cream. As they each picked one and mounted, Kili made a wise comment on how _"Uncle needs to ride the black one, you see. It makes him look more majestic."_ The king merely cast him a soft glare as Bilbo covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt not to laugh. Thorin caught this and threw him a similar expression, only more of a smile and the hobbit suddenly felt a bit warmer.

During their venture, each seemed to keep to their own and remained lost in their thoughts, however Kili took note of just how often his uncle's eyes seemed to wander over the hobbit and vice-versa before they each glanced aside. A grin slipped mischievously onto his face and he rode up beside the halfling. 

"So Bilbo," He called, looking nonchalant as he broke the dreamer from his daze. "Whatcha been thinking about?" 

"Hm? Oh nothing, really. Just thinking I should-" 

"You appeared to be fantasizing about something." 

" _Fantizising?!_ " With that, all filters in Bilbo's mind seemed to switch off and become fried. He felt heat in his ears and neck and he was sure he was becoming bright red. He then realized how suspicious this made him seem, even though there was no reason for him to be, and he came tumbling down shortly in a ramble. 

"I wasn't- I am a hobbit and a Baggins of -" He stopped, cleared his throat and huffed out his chest, turning to the grinning dwarf. "Just what do you mean by that?" 

"I'm just saying your mind seemed to be wandering off..." 

"My mind was very well set in one place thank you." 

"Yeah? And what place might that be?" 

The hobbit froze. In truth he had been thinking about Thorin, but he bloody well wasn't _fantasizing_ about him! That is the most personally unethical, inconsiderable _violation_ of anyone, whether they know it or not. How could Kili even think he would be doing such a thing? Picturing his uncle undressed without the furs or heavy armor he always wore, boots kicked aside some place long forgotten. His rough, callused hands stripping away his undershirt to reveal a hardened and scarred chest covered in small hairs before reaching out to take away his own, aND **NO. NO. HE WAS NOT DOING THE THING**. He was not about to start fantasizing about Thorin just when he was being _accused_ of fantasizing about Thorin. 

"See there, you're doing it again." Bilbo turned back to the grin of the younger dwarf and became even warmer. "No shame in it, Master Baggins. I'm merely curious as to who-" 

"Kili, stop bothering Bilbo." 

Bilbo had never been so glad to hear the harsh voice of the king cut someone off. He said a silent thank you to Thorin before taking a deep breath, trying to shake off his heat. As Kili pulled ahead to speak with him, the hobbit began to mutter about the nerve of it all when it dawned on him: The prince had never mentioned who he believed him to be fantasizing about. He had decided on Thorin on his own accord. For the rest of the ride he tucked his head down, not having the will to speak as he dwelled on his emotions. 

He had to be mistaken. It was just from Kili's implications he had thought of the king under the mountain. But why did it have to be him? Sure, he was quiet an attractive dwarf and all, but that did not give him any reason to start imagining things. At the thought bringing about the phrase of attractive, Bilbo lost all hope of returning to his normal color. 

Why was he blushing so _hard?_ It was all a misunderstanding, wasn't it? He had no intentions of picturing Thorin in such a ways again and surely he had no interest to see him in such an intimate and revealing way. Yes, he was pleasant to look at, and yes, he had found himself more than once wondering what kind of partner the king would be searching for, but he himself wasn't meant to be a part of it! He was a hobbit, from under the hill and across the water, for the Shire's sake! He wasn't going to end up being the consort to a dwarvish king from Erebor, the idea itself was every bit as insane as him becoming a burglar. 

But then again, he did become one and go on that endless journey, didn't he? He had dropped everything, sprinted out his door and over the meadows, paying little mind to any other hobbits who thought he may have lost his own. He had battled orcs and wargs, dealt with that pitiful little gollum creature in the goblin tunnels, all of which were things a Baggins of Bag End would never even consider doing. He had traveled beside a company made almost entirely of dwarves, each of which were as loud and exuberant as they were sturdy and determined. He had enjoyed meals with and slept beside them, he had learned about their past and some culture, finding it all each bit as intriguing as that of the elves. He had truly become one of them, in an honorary way, and he had been counted just as important as any other of their company, even in the eyes of their king. 

Thorin had doubted him in the beginning, but he had also doubted himself. When his qualities had finally come to light, it was the king under the mountain who took him first in his arms and admitted he had been wrong. From then on he had been seen as an equal. Being as he came from a place where everyone knew each other, Bilbo had believed he had many friends and neighbors, but when it came to the king, he knew his relationship was different entirely. They had become so close and trusting of each other, following each other's leadership without question and protecting each other when needed most. When he had lost him, the hobbit felt as if the entire world had gotten a little darker. He had gone on, as Thorin had asked, but he just wasn't happy with his life in the Shire anymore. He would eat and smoke, look at his maps and read books but parties had become a thing of the past. Not even his garden brought him much joy. When Balin showed on his doorstep however, there was an unthinkable change. 

Just the very idea that Thorin Oakenshield being alive had brought back a spring in his step. His chest felt fuller and tighter, not in an unpleasant way, and he felt happy. Of course he was terrified to face him again, but that was understandable in his mind. To see Thorin again, his unyielding and strong gaze that seemed to soften at the sight of him, that small incredibly arresting smile that graced his lips in the hobbit's presence; that is what he had longed for. Even now, on the backs of ponies on their way to Mirkwood he would still hope for the same thing. 

"Look there, the gates!" 

Kili's voice caused the hobbit to snap from his daze, leaving him uncertain of just how long he had been thinking off. He was further startled when he noticed the king of his thoughts riding beside him, staring at him with a peculiar expression. 

"Are you feeling alright, Master Burglar?" Bilbo felt a touch of fondness attached to that venerable name, and saw that smile steal onto Thorin's lips. The hobbit eased and returned the gesture. 

"Yes, fine, just... lost in thought, I suppose." 

The dwarf gave a nod in understanding and silence settled between them comfortably. They entered the guarded gates and strode up to the steps, greeting Thranduil as he remained still and pristine like a polished gem. 

"Thorin," He said, more of a question than a statement as he raised his brows. "I did not expect to see you in my kingdom again." 

"All is at rest." The dwarf assured, climbing off his pony. "Bard has his men overlooking Dale and I have Fili watching the mountain." 

"And... the halfling?" His eyes wandered over and the hobbit froze, remembering the elven lord's first impression of him. Thorin noticed this and stated impactfully, 

"With me." 

Thranduil's gaze became less intense, more passive. "Bilbo, was it?" 

"Yes..." He tried to come up with a respectable term to call the king, but all thought of it became too regal and overdone in his mind and he stopped himself. "Follow me." Thranduil led them into the elegant palace, the sheer splendor of it leaving the hobbit in awe. "Kili, Tauriel is out scouting the perimeter with my men." 

"When will she be back?" 

"Shortly, I assume. She is never out too long. You may rest in your room til then." The dwarven prince dismissed himself from the group and headed up towards the stairway. "Was there any place in particular in my home you were hoping to see, hobbit?" 

The burglar hmmed at the question, thinking for a moment. "Do you have a garden?" 

The elf nodded and ushered over a guard, giving him the instruction. "I will see you are retrieved after our meeting for dinner." 

Bilbo gave his thanks and a retreating look to Thorin before following the other's lead, through and out the back entrance of the palace. The sight was absolutely breath taking. 

To the very edge of the forest there was nothing but bright flowers and soft trees, all alive and budding well despite the condition of the woods itself. There were roses and lilies, posies and carnations of just about every color he could think of. A winding path led through it like a natural maze one would be willing to get utterly lost in and met in the middle under a brilliant gazebo. He walked and admired each of the gorgeous plants, enjoying each of their exquisite scents. He became so adrifted in the sea of wonder he did not notice a presence joining him beneath the shade. 

"Lovely, aren't they?" 

Bilbo turned to the unfamiliar voice and gazed up in surprise. Standing apart from him was a beautiful she-elf with long red hair. 

"Yes, they are." He returned, smiling as the face met a name. "You're Tauriel, aren't you?" 

"I am." She grinned back, taking a seat. "You must be Bilbo. Kili has told me a lot about you." 

"Has he?" 

"Hard not to hear stories of the burglar who saved his uncle on more than one occasion." 

The hobbit flushed slightly at the comment and turned momentarily from her gaze. "Just, what needed to be done. I couldn't _not_ save him." 

"Indeed." 

When his eyes returned to her, he caught sight of something dark, sparkling in a hanging braid just beneath her ear, trapping the light. 

"What's that?" He asked, gesturing to the piece. Again Tauriel grinned. 

"Kili made it for me." She pulled the braid forward to show a good sized bead covered in dwarven markings. "It's dwarvish tradition to wear the crest of the person your heart belongs to." The runes on the stone were beautifully etched, clearly showing the time and care the prince had put into it. 

"It's remarkable..." Bilbo inspected the token closely, though not able to make out any of the phrases. "What does it mean?" 

"I do not know exactly," She examined the piece herself, rubbing her thumb over the markings. "It is in Khuzdul. But I believe it means, _My heart will always be yours_." 

The hobbit felt a sense of satisfaction at the words. That truly was a phenomenal phrase for both her and Kili, being in the situation they were in. 

"That's very thoughtful of him." The elf tucked the piece of hair back behind her ear, bringing a thought to Bilbo. "Have you seen him yet?" 

"No, I've just arrived." 

"He's upstairs waiting for you. Thranduil said something about his room, I believe." Her expression changed mildly. 

"I suppose I should be going then." With that she stood a departing bow. "It was nice meeting you, Bilbo." 

"Nice meeting you too." With a wave she was off, headed back through the flowers and into the palace, leaving the hobbit to enjoy the quiet. 

She seemed amiable, he had thought. Very befitting of Kili and quiet understandable of why he enjoyed her. It made him smile to himself thinking of the token he had given her. Such a simple indication of one's feelings yet conveyed in such a meaningful way. It was custom and observant, making the connection apparent and wearing it with such pride. That could be a very desirable feature for him even, if he ever were to take part. 

By this point Bilbo had lost count of just how many times he had felt heat reaching the tips of his ears and by all things good he wished he could make it stop. He wasn't ever going to take part in a _dwarvish consorting ritual_. He was a hobbit from the Shire who would, when he returned, find another pleasant hobbit to marry. A simple lady from Bag End and nothing more. 

Honestly, he needed to stop having such delusions. He wasn't a dwarf, nor would he ever be, and he _certainly_ hadn't captured the romantic attention of one. The closest relationship he had in Erebor was with Thorin, and it was strictly platonic. He had absolutely no such affection for the dwarf, even if he hadn't quiet figured out just what his emotions were. And even if he were, the king had absolutely no interest in him, no matter what he felt. So in the end, even the very idea of him partaking in such a tradition was downright ignorant. 

Coming to such conclusion, Bilbo nodded to himself, pleased with his own reasoning. Then it was almost as if his heart slowly began to sink into his stomach. The curve of his lip dipped downward and he lowered his head, staring down aimlessly into his lap. If he had absolutely no feelings towards Thorin, then why was it now he felt so _devastated_ knowing he had no chance with him?


	8. Favors From a Friend(?)

Thorin stepped easily into the elven throne room, remembering well the last time he had left it in bounds. He felt an uneasiness about him for moment before Thranduil dismissed the guards from the place and ordered them to seal the doors, making sure their meeting was private.

"I trust your journey had no trouble?" The elven lord asked, choosing to remain standing across from the king before him. 

"None." 

Thranduil nodded. "Tauriel's rank has been doing a fine job of keeping the spiders out. We find they're less common on the farther side of the forest." 

"Is Legolas with them?" The dwarf's eyes met that of the elf's, the emotion that crossed over them he did not know. 

"No," The lord said finally, breaking the gaze. "I have sent him north, to seek out the one they call Strider." 

Thorin's tone shifted, gaining a puzzled surprise. "You sent your son after the ranger Aragorn?" 

"Yes, I believe the King of Gondor would be pleased to have my son along side him in his travels." 

"Does he know?" Thranduil knew the dwarf was referring to the prince as opposed to the king, responding, 

"I have not informed him." 

With that the conversation seemed to drop, Thranduil making no move to explain further what he had meant and Thorin choosing to remain unknowledgeable about matters that did not concern him. Instead he reached into his pack, retrieving a a piece of finely wrapped cloth fitting just bigger than his palm. 

"Here," He extended the hand to the lord, being careful to keep the silk folded as the elf took it. "As promised." 

Thranduil opened the cloth as the dwarf looked away. Shining brilliantly with the smallest light it received, the starlight gems shifted easily in his hands. 

"What is it you seek?" He looked up, recovering the jewels so that the king may face him. 

He looked up, Thorin making no proposal. "Nothing." 

"Is that so?" Thranduil's expression changed slightly, removing his eyes from the dwarf's just as he slipped the silken wrappings in his pocket. "Tell me, why is it you are here?" The elf asked, now studying the king. "Surely, you cannot expect me to believe a king would travel all this way to deliver a handful gems." 

Thorin locked his jaw, holding strong against Thranduil's prying. "This is coming from another who travels merely for an exchange of words." 

"Words lead to actions, and can be quiet useful." Silence fell between them, the lord's pale gaze holding intently to the dwarf's, as if he could read the answer. With a slip and a simple shift in the king's face, the elf could and his eyes widened slightly. "It's the hobbit, isn't it?" 

Thorin did not respond nor let his gaze falter as Thranduil's pulled away, pacing in thought. 

"He's fascinated by my people as so you brought him with you." 

"I know not what you speak of." 

"Don't be so insignificant." The elf practically scoffed, facing him once more. "The circumstance surprises me less than you refusing to wear a crown." 

"You know why I do not wear a crown." Thorin glared at him marginally. "It is the same reason I do not gaze at those gems I bring you, but keep them wrapped away from my sight." 

"Indeed, I know this." Thranduil paid no mind as he evaluated the dwarf, attempting to contemplate the various possibilities of his actions. "What I would like to know is simply, why the halfling?" 

" _Why?_ " Thorin repeated, almost willing to gawk at the elf. 

Why _not_ the halfling? Why not Bilbo? He had been over this time and time again in his mind, going over each and every detail he valued about the hobbit from the caring of his heart to the strength of his spirit. It was the way he stood so courageously in the face of danger, in face of death itself, and fighting though being scared out of his mind. It was the unwavering devotion he had, always returning to him no matter the trials he faced. It was the way he cared enough for the strangers who had invaded his home, to promise to retrieve their own. It was the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed or smiled, and the way he wore his waist coat as if he was always needing to look his very best. The way he cared about the smallest of things, from a handkerchief to an acorn, and treasured each one of them as if they were his last. It was because he was who he was, a homely hobbit from Bag End with all the best in loyalty, honor, and a willing heart. 

"It is the halfling because Bilbo Baggins is the most dedicated, unfeigned person I have _ever_ met." Thorin stood straightly, speaking proudly as his did and gaining Thranduil's unabridged attention. "He keeps me grounded, reminds me that there are things, such as home and the people you love, more important than any and all the gold ever to be seen in Erebor. It is the halfling because he is my burglar, and I would be nothing without him." 

The elven lord remained in stunned silence for several moments, processing the extraordinary information he had received, the dwarf all the while staring him down, unyielding and powerful in his whereabouts. 

"Incredible..." Thranduil said finally, looking off for a moment as if pondering how to continue. "One small hobbit is all it would take to bring a king to his knees if he so desired..." Thorin nearly interjected, but the elf cut him off. "How can I help you?" 

The dwarf froze for a moment, brows knitting together. "What do you mean by that?" 

"You brought him here to visit my people, yes?" The lord continued, dismissing the given answer. "Is there anything in particular you know he would want to know? To see?" 

The dwarf thought for a moment, an idea coming to him in an instant. "Books. Anything concerning elvish history and culture, maps stretching past the boundaries of Middle Earth into far off lands. Perhaps an armchair as well... could you arrange that?" 

"Simply enough..." 

At his assurance, Thranduil stepped up to his throne to retrieve a small piece of cloth. Thorin watched him carefully as he reached back into his pocket, averting his eyes again as he pulled out the hidden gems. Easily the elf dropped a few of the smaller stones in his hand, appraising them for a moment before clutching them and returning the silk to his pocket. He gently dropped the jewels into the spare material and swathed them tightly before turning to face the dwarf. 

"Here..." He extended the piece in his palm. "For your token to him." 

Thorin looked to the elf in bewilderment, uncertain of whether or not to take the stones offered to him. 

"No," He decided, taking his eyes off the cloth. "They are yours." 

"And is he not fascinated by me?" He extended his hand further. "Take them, as a gift. It will be clear to all who see him what he means to you." 

Thorin stared at the package, still debatable on taking it. He nearly refused again but when the picture crossed his mind of Bilbo strutting through the halls of Erebor, one neat tight braid he made at the front of his head, holding such a brilliant piece he could craft, he found himself accepting them appreciatively. 

Thranduil then passed him, walking up to the doors that isolated him. "I will have the books ready for you to take after dinner. As for an armchair, I'm certain Kili can show you proper rooms for the night. And, Thorin..." The dwarf looked up to the elf, pausing in his hesitance. "Good luck." 

The dwarf gave him a nod in thanks and headed out of the throne room, shoving the cloth in his satchel. His features remained stoic and hard, but beneath it all he feared he was losing his mind. 

How had he gotten all mixed up in this? How did he, Thorin Oakenshield, find himself entirely fallen _in love_ with a hobbit? He could argue reasons for days, he was sure, but to actually _be_ a part of it seemed so unreal to him. He had spend a considerable amount of time wishing, though he may not of known it yet, and now that the time to act was at hand he felt so internally paralyzed. He was terrified; from the balls of his feet to the top of his head, every piece of him he could feel stiffen at the thought: _What if Bilbo rejected him?_

What if, despite everything he tried, the hobbit did not find him as desirable? If he were to craft such a precious piece for him, so wholly and willing customized to be just for him, and he were to cast it aside? Single-handedly the creature could ruin him, so easily shatter him until there was nothing but fragments of a once notable king. It was aching how desperate he found himself to win over the hobbit's affections and frightening how arduous the task itself seemed. 

He stopped this doubt for a moment, the entirety of it all made him want to shake his head at himself. He knew he was getting worked up on the subject and he needed to take a step back, he needed to relax. Bilbo had taught him that much, in a way. He took a deep breath and kept to himself, settling into the dining hall and taking a seat. Within a few moments, Kili and Tauriel arrived as well. 

"Uncle," His nephew grinned, taking up the seat across from him and next to his consort. "How did your meeting go?" 

"Well enough," Thorin cast his gaze over the she-elf. "It is good to see you again, Tauriel." 

"You as well, king Oakenshield." She smiled warmly, taking a sip from her glass. 

Kili began to speak once more, talking of an elvish tradition Thorin did not understand. The king merely listened to the sound, not really focusing on much of his words as he began to pick at his plate. His attention wasn't once again reclaimed until during the middle of his ramble, the dwarven prince called out, 

"Bilbo!" 

Thorin looked up, the hobbit of his earlier thoughts shuffling into the room with a quiet greeting. He took the seat along side the king, keeping his head a bit down. Kili began off once more, he and Tauriel making a fair attempt at conversation to which Bilbo and Thorin each commented on occasion, but mostly kept to themselves. It became clear to the king that something was bothering the hobbit, as he didn't appear to be eating much. 

What could be wrong? Was it something he had been the cause of? Did he not wish to visit the elves? He was beginning to fall into a twist of emotions once more and stood, unwilling to expose himself as such a mess. He began heading out of the hall, a chorus of questioning following him. 

"W- Uncle, where are you going?" 

"Master Oakenshield,-?" 

"Thorin-" The king stopped, turning to face the hobbit who stared after him in concern.. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine..." Thorin settled him easily, though he himself still felt unsure. "I've merely forgotten to ask something of Thranduil." 

Biblo appeared a bit surprised for a moment then nodded, turning back in his seat as silence pressed heavily into the room. The dwarf continued out, escaping the atmosphere with a lofty sigh as he wandered back through the halls. He needed to calm down, he needed to force all thoughts of indecision from his head or surely he would drive himself mad. He found himself roaming freely and idly, not paying any mind to his path until he found himself before a promenade. He glanced up, taking in his surrounding and heedlessly noticed he had fallen into the gardens. Feeling a tightness rise to his chest, he nearly turned back, however he doubted he could find a simpler place in elven palace to sort out his thoughts, so he continued forward. 

He knew he was obviously getting overrun by his dubiety, but it was nearly impossible to deem inconsiderable. Rejection, dismissal, all of his doubts were very real possibilities but at the same time, each of them seemed foolish to even think about. Sure the hobbit had noticed his actions, hadn't he? Felt each of his convictions as deeply as he had, shaking his very foundations at the thought of being without? He couldn't possibly be the only one of them to fall; surely Bilbo had found _something_ in him desirable, even if it were the smallest of things. But then again, any redeeming qualities of him could be countered in a single instant. 

Where he had once welcomed the hobbit with open arms, assuring him he belonged, it was him who showed the most doubt in the halfling, casting him aside as if he were nothing and pushing him to return home. Where he had given Bilbo the gift of protection, a shirt as strong as dragon's scales so's not be harmed, he had nearly strangled him, holding him over the wall of the mountain and effectively keeping there, wishing him death. How could he possibly find any redemption in that? 

At last he came to a place to rest, still under the falling night sky and rubbing his hands over his face, resting them under his chin. Glancing around, he could still see all the vibrance and vitality in the elegant plants that lined the paths around him, each belonging to it's flawless shade of some meaningful color. They had a beauty about them, he observed, not unlike that of the various jewels found in Erebor, but at the same time quiet different. These were delicate, though not quiet frail, as they lay around a forest that died around their feet and yet somehow they managed to thrive, unlike most things tenuous. 

There was an affectionate shift in his features, a smile smile slipping unconsciously onto his lips as he came to the idea that the flowers undoubtedly reminded him of Bilbo. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, releasing it steadily after a few moments. In the end, he knew he would have to come to terms with it: He had to tell Bilbo how he felt. Even if he faced the ultimate rejection from the hobbit, he at least needed to be the one to give in a chance. At least that way he'd know, not being forced to spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been. 

"Thorin," 

The dwarf turned sharply, arguably startled by the sudden voice behind him. He gazed up, coming face to face with the lord of the garden who peered down at him strangely. 

"I was told you were here, but you are the last person I'd expect to find roaming my gardens..." 

Thorin stood, turning to face the elf head on. "I must ask you for one more favor." 

Thranduil glanced off for a moment, looking down and brushing his fingers lightly over a group of white narcissus. "What is it?" 

"I must ask you to call for Gandalf." 

The elf's eyes met his in an instant, the dwarf remaining solemn in his request. "The wandering wizard is not easy to find," He rubbed his thumb over the soft petals and retracted his hand, resting it easily. "Some days he is not far, others he can be worlds away." 

"Last we met, he was going to meet with Elrond in Rivendell. I assure you he cannot be far from there." Thorin remained constant, not losing his stare off with the elven lord even if his own gaze was plausibly pleading. 

Thranduil again was the the one to pull his gaze, seeing no benefit in fighting the dwarf. "I'll send few of my men and _perhaps_ they will find him. I alone will make no guarantee." 

"Thank you," The king nodded, giving a small bow of his head in a show of respect. "I will take what you can give." 

The elven lord responded similarly and raised his arm, lifting carefully a stack of leather and paper books, some bound with simply and others with intricate markings decorating their covers. 

"Here," He extended his reach and dropped the materials into the dwarf's hands. "This is the foremost knowledge I could establish for your hobbit. I've determined it be best for you to deliver it to him." 

Thorin gathered the books and held them carefully, giving Thranduil another thanks before turning and heading back towards the palace. Upon entering the halls, he was noticed by his nephew descending the winding stairs. 

"Uncle!" Kili called out, reaching the landing and running up to the king. "I've been searching all over for you. I just showed Bilbo his room, an-" 

"Which is it?" 

"W- It's the on at the top and down the left hallway, nearest to the end.." The younger dwarf then took note of the papers that filled the other's hands, the smallest bit of a grin tugging on his features. "What is it you got there?" 

Thorin shot a settle glare at the prince, but did not deny in his response "Books, for Bilbo." 

Kili smile stretched broadly at the statement, laughing lightly as the king's glare hardened. But the prince simply ignored, clapping his hand down on the other's shoulder. "I'm glad to see you bringing him gifts, uncle. He'll make you a fine pair." 

With that Thorin's scowl vanished, sinking into something more of a fond esteem for his nephew. Nearly shaking his head he returned the gesture, grabbing his arm firmly. "Thank you Kili." 

Giving a final clap the younger departed, leaving the king to his task. He found the room simply enough, standing in the doorway and listening to be sure. It was almost impossible to tell, being as hobbits are profoundly quiet creatures, but there was a distinct sigh that Thorin knew belonged solely to Bilbo, and so he knocked. There was the lightest tread of footsteps before the door opened, revealing the small creature. 

"Thorin..." The hobbit sounded almost uncertain as he took a step back, allowing the dwarf to enter his room with a low greeting. 

"Bilbo," The king gazed around the room, pleased to find a comfortable looking armchair placed in the corner. "My apologies for abandoning you at supper. I had a few personal matters to attend to." 

"Oh, no worries at all. That's why you're here, isn't it?" The hobbit assured, confirming with gentle smile. 

Thorin returned it easily for a moment, then darkened as he glanced to look at the burglar. "I noticed you seemed bothered when I left you. Is everything all right?" 

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Bilbo replied simply, though his voice appeared a bit strained. The king pondered pressing the issue further, be decided against it. Instead he outstretched his arms, laying his offering before the confused hobbit. "What's this?" 

"They are books, Master Baggins." He dropped most of the stack in the others arms, but opted for keeping the top one for show, undoing the string and opening before him. "Works of elven literature and histories, as well as maps that give you a well view of the world." 

Thorin began to smile once more as he flipped through the pages, the hobbit's eyes filling with wonder. Quickly he dropped the other books on to his bed and took up the one in the dwarf's hands, marveling over the details. 

"Thorin, these are...astounding." Bilbo scanned over every part of the pictures and lettering, some of which completely in elvish. He would surely have to learn the language at some point. He then looked up, grinning as he met the eyes of the dwarf. "Where did you get them?" 

"Thranduil provided them. He has allowed you to take them back with us to Erebor." 

At this the hobbit paused, gazing up as his point of interest changed though the wonder remained. "This was your request?" 

"...Yes." 

Silence fell between them, neither really knowing how to continue on. Thorin kept his eyes sealed on the burglar, watching each piece of his reaction carefully though not receiving much, having left Bilbo in a loss for words. 

"Thorin I-, I'm not sure what to say, this is..." He took a deep breath, heavily exhaling as his eyes glided over the pages once more. Such a treasure laying in letters and drawings that perhaps only he between the two of them knew. His eyes re-met the dwarf's. "Thank you." 

The rigidness of the king's gaze softened into one content smile, the one that made him feel the way only this particular hobbit could. The grace of his lips was met by a full hearted, "You're welcome." 

He lingered a trace longer before leaving the book in the other's hands, seeing himself out. Once in the doorway he looked back, taking hold of the knob and leaving with his last bit of news. "We leave first thing in the morning." 

"Alright," The hobbit nodded, knowing he had more than enough now to keep him supplied on his whim for elvish culture for awhile. He left the king with a final glance at his smile. "Good night, Thorin." 

"Good night, Bilbo." 

At the soft shut of his door, the hobbit happily found his way to the armchair, settling into it easily and flipping through the first few pages of the book. It was an account of sorts, filled with recollections and stories from woodlen adventures and traditions, some of which were still known today. The hand writing was stunning from the curls of delicate elvish letters to the dots over the common tongue. Each little detail he noticed had him grinning wider and wider, becoming more and more intrigued and fascinated by the history of the elves. He couldn't believe Thorin had managed this for him. He knew that the dwarven king and the elvish lord had been at head before, but he never imagined that the dwarf would have been able to arrange this sort of gift for him. He was absolutely amazing; without a doubt the greatest, most kind hearted person he had ever known. He was better than afternoon tea on a cold day and even better than second breakfast. He was so wonderful, so magnificent, and Bilbo was absolutely in love with him. 

He froze; his eyes stopped reading through the pages, the words suddenly losing all meaning. He wasn't sure if any color rushed over his neck and ears, but he felt all the color drain from his face. By the Shire, he was _in love_ with Thorin. He couldn't even bother to deny it, it all just became so stupidly obvious to him. That's why he got so warm when the king hugged him, why the idea of dwarvish consorting rituals had been dancing about his head. He had fallen in love with a dwarf. 

By this point, Bilbo had shut his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, his head spinning as his heart thumped heavily in his chest. How had this happened to him? Thorin was strong and unnerving at the best of times. He glare could frighten others into submission if so desired and he battled with and unmatched strength of will. He was intimidating and not at all the kind of person the hobbit had ever envisioned himself with. But, in a way, that was only half true. 

Thorin was strong in his mind as well as his heart, willing to endure an endless battle to see his people living a free life in peace under the mountain. The same eyes he used to glare at his enemies the hobbit had seen softened, all steel behind them melted away to reveal such fondness and caring, whether it be to him or the young princes. He fought in battle with pride, with a will so unbreakable he had died to see his task done and to protect everything he valued. Thorin Oakenshield was rightfully so the true king under the mountain, and easily held the most worth of any riches it's walls held. He was the icon of a true heart in all it's splendor, and so the hobbit had simply forgotten how to stand. 

How incredible the thought would then be, having someone that personally stunning to call your own. This then brought the remembrance back to him that he was in fact a hobbit; a Baggins of Bag End, as he had assured himself far too many times, and not a dwarf, from Erebor or other wise. Having to keep reminding himself of this began to feel more and more like a punch to his gut. If it were he had fallen in love with a simple dwarf, then maybe he could have a chance, but of course, being a Took he had to make things difficult and fall for the bloody _king under the mountain_. 

Bilbo opened his eyes and sighed heavily, sinking further into the cushions of the chair and closing the book shut, setting it aside. He propped up his feet on one of the arms and laid his head against the other, staring up at the open ceiling. He just needed to think for awhile, try to calm his thoughts and heart. At the very least, he had been able to accept the fact quickly; He had fallen in love with Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everyone, settle down, settle down. I know all of you are angsty and are ready for the big dramatic crescendo of this piece, and I thank each of you for reading this far. I'm sorry if this chapter seemed any less organized or more compressed than any of my others, but so much needed to happen here to allow me to reward you for all your waiting in the next chapter. I've decided this piece will only have two more chapters: An Ending and an Epilogue. 
> 
> So this is it. We're reaching near the end of our fix-it journey together and I am happy to say how much fun writing this was and how much I enjoyed reading all of your comments. :] You are all lovely, and I thank you once more for holding on this far. If you feel like you want me to write a continuation on this story later please let me know in the comments below.
> 
> ~RainiDayz


	9. A Gift Most Precious

When morning came the small group of of visitors departed, giving their thanks and farewells as the climbed atop their ponies and settled their bags. Tauriel took up her arms and escorted them back through the sickening trails of the forest, keeping her eyes keen and swiftly shooting down the couple of spiders who stood in their path. (This, of course, only caused the dwarven prince to swoon for her more.) When they reached the borders of Mirkwood, Kili left her with a longing kiss and his promise of returning.

The journey continuing was quiet and content, a fair bit of conversation on the elvish culture bouncing between the prince and the hobbit while the king remained unspeaking, lost in his thoughts on the task of crafting the perfect piece. Time passed without much notice by anyone, the mountain coming in to view by late day in passing through the construction of Dale. Through the haze and commotion, they noticed Bard; the dragon slayer leading the citizens on what needed to be done, lifting a heavy beam along side a group of men while others struck it into place. His gaze swept over them briefly, giving a small gesture in his greeting to which of them returned. Surely he would make a fine king of Dale, if ever he chose to take the part. 

Drawing closer still, a figure came into view at the great stone door, cloaked entirely in a recognizable shade of grey. 

"I would hope that if I were to be summoned by the great king of Erebor, that when I arrived he would at the very least be _home_." The wizard jested pleasantly, approaching the the group as they dismounted their transporters. 

"Gandalf!" Bilbo smiled at the sight, racing ahead to greet the mind behind his first adventure. 

"Why, Bilbo, I can't say I expected to see you again." The wizard grinned merrily, leaning down to continue, "I'm glad to see I was wrong." 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I do believe I am here to speak with Thorin, though I could be entirely wrong about that as well..." He looked up to the dwarf in question, the king remaining silent as he stared back for a moment then turned, focusing on the task of gathering his things. The wizard hummed deeply and straitened, not taking his eyes off his subject. "Bilbo, if you could, I would appreciate speaking to our company king alone for a few moments." 

The hobbit shot his gaze to the dwarf and back to the grey before nodding and recovering the pouches from his pony. He rejoined Kili at the steps and headed inside, leaving the king to turn and face his guest. 

"I did not expect you to arrive so quickly." 

" _I_ did not expect to be summoned." 

For several seconds the wizard stood straight, looking over the dwarf as if to study him moderately. Thorin allowed him to do so, remaining equally still. Once seemingly satisfied, Gandalf finally spoke, 

"It is rare for me to be called upon by those other than wizards and highly reguarded elves, usually for matters more strenuous than I care to speak of." He paused, looking over the dwarf once more. "Why is it that you call, Thorin?" 

The king looked to the mountain, being sure no one was within ear shot to hear them. "I need you to preform a spell on me." 

"What on earth are you speaking of?" The wizard clutched his staff and stepped closer, narrowing his eyes and leaning over the dwarf, lowing his voice in dark curiosity. "What is it you are asking of me?" 

"I need you to cast something that will allow me to work with the gems in the mountain." Thorin spoke honestly, keeping his eyes equally set on the other. 

"Absolutely not!" Gandalf turned away sharply, storming off and deriding all further discussion in a cloud of vexation and disbelief. "I cannot even begin to wonder why you would ask such a wretched thing, and by my hand at all! To think, I would be bothered to come all this way to find it is _you_ of all people I am needing to worry of!" 

"It is for my token." Thorin called after him, watching the wizard stop in his tracks. Slowly he turned, a peculiar expression laying on his face as he returned before the dwarf, peering down at him. 

"And whom, may I ask, will this token be for?" 

Thorin took a breath and adjusted himself, trying to divulge, if only for himself, just how proud he was of deliberating who his piece would be for. He stared up at the wizard, every ounce of satisfaction and fulfillment he possessed showing in his face. 

"I will make it for Bilbo Baggins." He said solidly, rapturous and unashamed. 

At this there was a light in Gandalf's eyes and a low hum in his throat. It was clear he was torn on the subject and he turned, gazing off as he contemplated the consequences. "This is quiet the quandary. Though I am pleased to hear you have found you match in our burglar, your request cannot be deemed as wise." 

"But you know it must be done." 

Again the wizard faced him, his features showing his obvious irresolute. "Even so, it could be dangerous for you. I have no desire to see you fall into sickness a second time..." 

"Then you must be the one to help." Thorin stare remained unyielding to the wizard, urging him to capitulate. "Please, Gandalf." 

The wizard remained silent, hand wringing on his staff for a moment. He knew the dwarf would not settle for less than his assistance, no matter the argument he made. He was set in his decision and despite everything he was as stubborn as any other of his kind, refusing to give. 

"If I am to do this for you, I do not know how long it will last." He admitted with great concern, not taking his eyes off the king. "Send another to gather the materials you will need. I will help you only when you are ready." 

Thorin nodded, thanking him and turning toward the mountain. He led the way inside, searching not long before stumbling across Dori and Bifur who were chatting idly, stopping when they noticed the others. 

"O Mister Gandalf!" Dori spoke first, surprised to see the grey cloaked giant behind. "What are you doin' here?" 

"I'm here to assist Thorin on a personal matter." The wizard glanced at the king and waiting for his following. 

Thorin stepped ahead, dismissing further questions for a moment. "I must ask you each for a favor." 

"Well go on, spit it out then." 

"...I need you both to clear the work hall. Make sure no one remains. And afterwards," The king's eyes glanced the members of his former company, both watching him for instruction. "I need you to bring me small amounts of obsidien and silver." The dwarves' eyes widened. 

"And just what do you think you'll be needin' those for?!" Dori asked sharply, speaking over Bifur who raised his voice in an irate string of Khuzdul. 

"I need them for my token." Thorin spoke lowly, silencing the others as the dropped their defenses. 

Dori shook his head, inwardly groaning as he met the eyes of his king. "I don't like this, but I trust that is why you've brought Gandalf..." He sighed, looking to Bifur who remained still as he spoke. The grey haired dwarf turned back to Thorin, nodding softly. "We'll see it done." 

"Thank you." Thorin placed a hand on each of the other's shoulders in gratitude, trying to reassure them. 

The followers retreated back through the halls, filling their king's request as he remained to wait in silence. The wizard looked down on him, clearly perturbed with the entire situation. He was discontented to say the least, and each moment he felt more and more the need to refuse aid. It wasn't long before Dori and Bifur returned, their hands closed sternly shut, trying to hide every bit of the light within them from the king's eyes. For a moment Thorin stared, not willing to turn away from the pieces, but he shut his eyes tight and took command of his body, forcing himself to turn to Gandalf and look to him readily. 

"I do not want to do this..." The wizard confessed, trying once more to reason with the dwarf and deter his choice. 

"You must." Thorin reaffirmed as he continued to stare unrelentingly at the wizard. 

Not being able to defer the task further, Gandalf lifted his staff. A white light began to glow at it's point as the wizard began to mutter in a tongue the dwarves did not understand. Quiet simply he brought the staff down, tapping it a bit harshly into the king's chest and washing a wave of light over him. Thorin's eyes when wide for a moment and he exhaled heavily, unsure of when he had begun holding his breath. He then looked down, pressing a hand to his chest and inspecting himself. Seeing no change he looked to the wizard, 

"Did it work?" 

"I surely hope so..." Gandalf sighed deeply, replanting his staff as he stared at the dwarf. "I do not wish to see the effects if it is wear off. I shall remain to be sure you are not taken by the sickness again." 

"Thank you." Thorin turned to the dwarves beside him, each looming with uncertainty as they outstretched their hands. 

The king saw treasures and he took a breath, reaching for them with nervous fingers and looking them over. He rubbed his thumbs over each and determined them both to be of fine quality. It was then he realized he felt no different. A smile of relief washed over his face and he turned back to the wizard. 

"I will finish quickly." He assured him, setting the pieces carefully into his pack along side the starlight gems. 

"Please do." Gandalf's tone lightened, solaced by the dwarf's reaction. "If you feel any change at all stop your work immediately and return directly to me." 

"I will." Thorin agreed, leaving them and heading down into the work hall. 

He felt full of excitement, being able to once again work with precious stones and gems, fine silver and feeling the heat of the furnaces as well as the return of a hammer fall. There was a keenness in his movements as he prepared, removing his vest and rings, setting them aside and retrieving a set of tools and hollow bits. He rolled up his sleeves and brought up the obsidian, gems, and silver. He knew immediately exactly what he was going create, from the inscription to the smallest of details. 

He worked diligently, melting down the silver as he began to work away the obsidian, smoothing it down and making it the right size, just a bit smaller than usual for the hobbit. He took up his tools and made marks in the fine stone with all the expertise of a master of his art, perfecting every little piece. He was sedulous, working into supper as the other dwarves of his company gathered in the dining hall. Bilbo was among them, carefully glancing at the members around him and studying them silently. He felt his innate curiosity tugging at him as he noticed their braids and he began to wonder which of them bore tokens similar to that of Tauriel. 

The first he looked to was Gloin; surveying over the red haired dwarf he noticed the pieces skillfully interwoven in his beard. There were several on the married warrior, varying in size and placement, but the one that rested just beneath his chin seemed to be just vaguely different from the others, standing out. The hobbit nearly asked him about it, but decided against in not wanting his interest to be questioned. Instead he turned aside, glancing around the table until his eyes landed on Ori. 

The youngest of the company had had nothing in his locks during their journey, but sure as Smaug there was now a silver piece laying entangled in a the end of a braid on the right side of his face. It appeared to be rough in texture and whatever writing placed in it was written in the same un-understandable language the dwarves kept. It was then he noticed Dwalin too had one; silver as well but much softer looking, smooth and the lettering was delicate and light, much as it would be expected from the scribe. 

At every person he noticed, Bilbo could point out a particular piece if they were meant to bore one, each being incredibly different from any other he compared it to and each shining in a place of pure open pride. He couldn't get over them. These people, so burly and recalcitrant to near anything that contradicted them, such as the refined culture of the elves, had somewhere developed such a delicate and heartfelt tradition that the hobbit could not shake his desire to want to partake in it. 

He knew he shouldn't be thinking that way, but he simply couldn't help himself. He wanted _so badly_ to be a part of it. He wanted to have such a piece and wear it with confidence, strutting through Erebor or across Middle Earth, no matter what. He wanted to tell the tale behind it and explain what it means, what time was taken into making it. He wanted a token made personally for him, holding in it's construction that absolute devotion and care the other had expressed through it. He wanted to see it everyday and know that the feelings that brought his partner to make it still existed and to be reminded just how prominent and proud they were of him. 

All of them were lovely thoughts, but Bilbo knew he needed to stop himself. He was already far too out of hand with his emotions about Thorin to be spiraled into concerning about the beautiful pieces. He had come to the full terms that he couldn't just wish away his feelings towards the dwarf matter how much hoped he could. He knew he was an insufficient match for the king; he wasn't much use in battle, let alone having any sort of knowledge when it came to ruling over an entire _kingdom_. He wasn't overly strong or wise, knew nothing of mining gold or harvesting precious gems, he wasn't in any way compatible to the king under the mountain. So he made up his mind, coming up with the best idea he could in the adverse situation: He was going to keep it to himself. 

Bilbo would discipline himself, remaining tight lipped no matter how often the king would make his heart flutter and his chest tightened. He was going to force himself to remain silent, stepping back for a moment if he must, shoving his desires aside. He was going to preserve their friendship, no matter how much it hurt him, because even if he couldn't have the dwarvish king for his own, he couldn't go back to living without him completely. 

He remembered how miserable he had been in the Shire. He remembered doing little more than reading or smoking his pipe all day, keeping his garden alive but not paying any mind to it other wise. He remembered hearing the laughter of late night hobbits hosting parties outside his window, mirthfully drinking and dancing but never once did he care go out and join them. The things that he had loved so much felt so worthless to him, so empty as he went about each and everyday as Thorin had asked him with his last bit of breath. He could not go back to that life. 

The hobbit realized his emotions were beginning to get to him and he stood, leaving his place quietly as those around the dinner table paid no mind. He walked through the stone halls, running his finger tips over the the walls as they roughened and smoothed over in various areas, giving it life. He was really beginning to fall in love with Erebor as well. The mountain itself, while sparsely receiving any sort of sunlight on the inside, was so bright with laughter and torch light and warm from the furnaces below. It was so open and vast it seemed nearly endless but there was a center to it all, bringing it together nicely despite several paths never crossing when wandering about. Not to mention the sight of it was something to behold; all the way from Carrock could it be seen, standing tall and strong in it's place, unwavering from the beast that invaded beneath it. It was a testament to the strength of the dwarves, especially that of those who fought to reclaim it. 

He eventually found himself outside, stepping out across the walkway above the kingdom's entrance. He cast his eyes out over the stony banister, leaning against it easily as he watched the light beginning to fade into the horizon. He could see all of Dale and across the waters where lake town had once been, still in embered pieces. The city it's people were rebuilding was starting to take shape, tall pillars setting the means to build sturdier walls and high ceilings, decorating the will all the pride and appearance it had lost so many years ago. It was going to be their greatest accomplishment yet, Bilbo knew, and the city would only grow more prosperous, especially under the leadership of Bard. 

He sighed contently and smiled to himself, assuring himself of the thought. He would surely have to visit the mountain more often, it was certainly worth the trip. He had gotten to relive the joy he had experienced on his journey once more, remeeting all his dwarven companions and seeing how they've changed, watching Dwalin throw an arm around Ori's wasit whenever given the chance and slowly seeing the suspicion in his brothers' eyes die in to small congratulations to them both, having Kili find his match made in another world and being loyal to her, dedicating himself fully to her, seeing Gandalf again, only for a moment, but listening to his soft ridicule for arriving late to him. It all filled him with such absolute joy that given the opportunity he might have stayed there forever. 

"Master Baggins?" 

A low voice cut Bilbo from his thoughts with a gentle start. Turning to the figure quickly, he felt his chest tighten tremendously and his heart compressing itself in his throat all at once. There before him and walking steadily closer was Thorin Oakenshield. 

"I had thought you would be having supper." 

"I-erm," The hobbit cleared his throat, adjusting his words. "I just needed some fresh air, I suppose." 

The king hummed in response, looking out from the mountain and gazing off. "What is it you were staring at?" 

Bilbo followed his sights and studied the land before him once more. "Nothing, really, in particular..." 

They stood in silence for a moment, the hobbit's eyes carefully and curiously wandering over the king who appeared to be content, but there was something about his face he couldn't quiet read. 

Thorin felt the eyes of the other on him and turned easily, smiling smally to himself when the hobbit quickly glanced away and a light shade of red began to decorate his neck and the tips of his ears. 

"It seems Dale is coming along nicely," Bilbo commented taking a breath and choosing to keep his eyes set on the city over the eyes of the king. 

"So it is." Thorin agreed, turning back to growing city. "At it's pace it is expected to be livable by the end of the summer." 

The hobbit hummed. "Do you think Bard will ever become king?" 

"I am certain he will be." 

Again silence settled between them, not uncomfortably, as they watched the last bit of the daylight continue to fade away. They were satisfied in each others company, but each of them had a form of weight bearing down on them. Thorin was the first to submit from it, speaking at last, 

"How are you enjoying Erebor?" 

Bilbo turned to meet the king's eyes once more, beginning to settle himself beneath them. 

"Oh, it's wonderful." He answered honestly, being uncertain in how to present himself. "It's incredible, the depth of it all. It's an astounding home for you." The hobbit nearly wanted to smack himself in the face. Of course it was an astounding home for the dwarf, he _fought a dragon_ to get it back. 

Thorin made no response to his answer for several moments; instead he focused his sights away from the other and seemed to be possessed by his thoughts. When he turned back to the hobbit he made little eye contact with him, keeping his gaze downward as if he were trying to hide something. 

"What kind of home would it make for you?" 

Bilbo stopped for a moment, blinking in confusion and trying to be sure he heard right. "Um- I'm sorry. Did you just ask, what kind of home it makes... for _me?_ " 

"Yes." The king straightened himself, visibly forced as his eyes matched the hobbit and pierced them, studying him heavily. 

Bilbo opened his mouth and closed it once more, finding himself at a loss for forming a coherent sentence. He turned himself away from the other, wringing him hands unconsciously as he tried to figure out how to answer. 

"It's become... pleasant to me..." He spoke smally to begin with, being carefully under the king's watchful gaze. "I enjoy the beauty made from it. I've enjoyed walking through the halls and even getting lost because of how vast they were. I enjoy my bedroom, the way you had it made for me, though I still haven't come up with a way to thank you for that. Or the books for that matter..." 

"They did not require a thanks." Thorin established quickly, shifting his gaze again when the hobbit's settled gently on his own. "They were gifts." 

"I know. I just wanted to reciprocate them, is all..." Bilbo straightened a bit, trying to keep his nerves away. "Finding something suitable to give a king is a more difficult task then a warm bed, it seems." 

The dwarf let out a soft chuckle, smiling softly at the other. "It was actually quiet the task finding a bed your size. You're the only hobbit past the city of Bree." 

Bilbo's eyes widened a bit, the thought before having never occurred to him. "How much trouble did it cause you?" 

"I believe it was a little over a week before Bard was able to manage." 

"Thorin..." The hobbit swore his heart must have melted inside his chest and his rib cage became so tight it made it hard for him to breath. So much effort had been put into finding one small bed, gathered just for him. In an instant he began to feel the effects the king had on him, being swept up so easily by his gestures of such great kindness. He took a breath and steadied himself inside his head, forcing his feelings down and opening his mouth to speak. 

"Thorin that's so _tremendous_ of you." He forced himself to look up at the king. "Really, you didn't need to go through all of that." 

"I wanted to." The dwarf assured positively, sounding a bit more like a confession as his stomach stirred. "I wanted to assure your comfort." 

The hobbit swallowed hard, trying to remain strong in his thoughts. "What about the books, then?" 

Thorin's jaw locked for a moment as he carefully met the other's gaze, any and all ice or steel that existed in his eyes had vanished completely. "I wanted your smile." 

With that Bilbo froze, time nearly coming to a stop around him. Something was wrong. Clearly he had misheard something. Thorin Oakenshield had not just admitted he was presenting him with gifts because it made him smile. That would be a sign or affection or _love_ and he wasn't a part of that. He couldn't be. 

At the silence the king began to wonder if he had overstepped his bounds; apprehension began to rise inside of him. 

"Bilbo -" 

"Thorin..." The hobbit cut him off, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He pressed his lips in a tight frown and shook his head. "Don't say that to me." 

The king remained silent, feeling his heart shatter into a million splinted fragments. He was about to depart when Bilbo's eyes opened, looking at him with _sorrow_ as he continued to speak, 

"Don't do things to make me smile. Don't do things that make me so _unbelievably_ happy. Stop making me feel like this, stop caring _so much_ for me. I am a hobbit. I'm not a dwarf. This isn't my home, _**you**_ are not my-" He sealed his lips together tightly once more, silencing himself and forcing himself to take a breath. Exhaling it harshly he returned his eyes to the king, even more devastated as they laid now blurry. 

Thorin stood quietly as he watched in bewilderment, stunned and confused. For a moment he thought he had somehow offended the hobbit, leading him to react to bitterly towards him. But he had also said he made him happy beyond belief, so what was it? Suddenly realization swept over the king, like gems clicking into a place on a necklace. _He thought his feelings were unrequited._

"You are not a dwarf, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin restated, taking a careful step towards the misinterpret burglar. "You have never been; not during our journey or before me now and nor will you ever be." 

The hobbit lowered his head, ducking down and locking his eyes on his feet below him. He kept his throat strained and locked, refusing to look at the king with tears lining at his eyes. But hand clasped his upper arm, firm yet gentle as the dwarf carefully into his view. 

"You are my _burglar_." Thorin looked to the deponent creature with eyes fully of warmth, his voice lowered but remained thoroughly as genuine as he spoke, "And I would not wish to have it any other way." 

At last Bilbo's eyes sprung up, mouth gaping just a bit as he looked to the king who only began to smile. He found himself at a loss for words, all thoughts escaping his mind for several moments before he reclaimed his ability to speak. 

"Thorin, I-..." Or so he thought. 

Thorin's smile only widened as he pulled back, lifting his free hand to brush over the right side of the other's face, beside the temple. He ran his finger tips through the first pieces of hair and drew it straight, examining the length and twisting it between the first two. Bilbo took a sharp breath and closed his eyes, still somewhat unsettled as he leaned slightly into the other's palm. The king responded by softly rubbing his thumb over the hobbit's cheek, just beneath his eye as if to remove all chances of tears from his eyes. 

"Bilbo..." The hobbit looked up to him through ambivalent orbs, shining brighter than any treasure the elves could have kept or that Erebor ever held. "I would be _honored_ to call you my companion." 

Bilbo could hardly believe what he was hearing. Thorin had just said it would be an honor to call him his companion. Of all the people he had met, all the people he'd seen on his travels and all the dwarves in the mountain, Thorin Oakenshield wanted _him_. 

He resolved himself fastly, straightening his shoulders and sniffling his nose quickly, looking away and letting out a breath as he washed his fears away. He returned his eyes to the dwarf, taking a deep breath and answering with the absolute fullness of his heart, 

"I would love nothing more in this entire _world_ than to be considered yours." He smiled finally and a small chuckle escaped him as he continued, "Not from the Shire or Rivendell, and certainly not a book or a bed." 

Thorin's features radiated pure endearment from the hobbit's words. Smiling he reached into his pocket, taking one of Bilbo's hands in his own. Carefully he turned it over, placing something small into his palm and gently curling his fingers over it. 

"I'm not certain how much you've learned of dwarven culture over the past couple years, but I will teach you if you do not understand." 

Bilbo's fingers slid over the object and he gasped smally, eyes widening as he opened his hand. Laying in his palm, as beautiful and careful as the dwarf before him, was a token. 

It was as smooth as the Arkenstone and as black as a moonless night, shining a soft light of it's surface. There were jewels embedded in a perfect line, running around the piece at it's direct center with an inscription marked on either side. The lettering was stunningly gorgeous, just as his letter had been when he had left Bag End and were filled neatly with silver, erasing all seams. There were but two words that graced the token; one in the language of the dwarves being Khuzdul and the other written in the common tongue. Judging by the way they were marked, Bilbo could assume they meant the same thing: 

_Home_

"It's beautiful, Thorin..." The hobbit beamed in pure joy as he looked to the king. "I know what this means." 

The dwarf smiled at him easily and re-took his hand, squeezing it lightly as he wrapped the other's fingers back over the piece, brushing over them with his thumb. He stepped closer to the hobbit and looked down to him, exchanging their breaths as the air shifted between them. He lifted his free hand and brought it to the back of Bilbo's neck, tilting his head just slightly as he curled his fingers into his hair. Gently he leaned in, watching his burglar's eyes flutter shut with his own before bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. 

Bilbo instantly pressed his lips back against his king's and slowly brought an arm to his backside, resting easily. They were rougher than his own but not at all unpleasant and he could feel the other's beard scratching against his jaw and he didn't mind at all. All that mattered was that he was kissing Thorin, and that made it perfect. 

Thorin kept his hobbit close to him and kept his smile against other's soft lips. They moved against each other in small movements, each delicate and relaxed, leaving the king with the unparalleled feeling that in this moment, he had everything. 

When they pulled away from each other, they rested their foreheads together, each unwilling to be separated for awhile longer. They remained silent, savoring the feeling of simply being with each other before opening their eyes. When the warmth of the cool blue met the light of the grassy green, neither wanted to pull away. 

"Bilbo..." Thorin spoke lowly against the other's lips, taking in the sweet sighs of his breath. "I love you." 

Bilbo didn't freeze or still, nor did he panic or force himself away. Instead he remained in place, heart beating strong and evenly in his chest as he replied, "I love you too." 

An affectionate smile graced the dwarf's lips as he lingered a moment longer. When at last he drew back, he slid his fingers into the first few pieces of his hobbit's hair once more and coaxed the other's hand open. He picked up his token, bringing it up to the side of Bilbo's hair and beginning his art. With unmatched skill he began to form a small braid, slipping on the piece towards the bottom and working it in with intricate mastery as the hobbit rest still beneath his hands. When he finished he observed it carefully, admiring the view of his burglar baring his token and looking up to him with such a pleased expression. The smile continued to rest on his own face and to be fair he wasn't sure it would ever come off. 

The hobbit brought his own hand to the complex work and pulled it away from his face, studying the absolute splendor of it. 

"You look beautiful." Thorin drew Bilbo's attention from the piece to himself, caressing the side of his face once more. The hobbit said a small thanks as the smallest bit of redness hit his ears. "What do you say we go have our supper?" 

"Sounds lovely." Bilbo smiled in return, his heart soaring with intense felicity. 

The dwarf took his burglar's hand easily and secure, unwilling to let it go as they headed back into the mountain. When they arrived back in the dining hall they were surprised to find the entirety of their company waiting for them but resolved simply when they saw the wizard standing in the corner, a contented expression on his face. 

Thorin shook his head, bemused as Bilbo before raising their clasped hands high. The room broke out in thunderous cheers and applause, each coming over to congratulate the pair and wish them all happiness. Balin gave the king a knowing look, smiling perhaps the brightest at the couple as Fili and Kili each ran up to the hobbit, addressing him as _Uncle Bilbo_. 

Bilbo was filled with unalloyed bliss as he gazed up at the king, overjoyed by it all. Thorin glanced at him with matching features before leaning in, giving a light kiss as the room erupted around them once more. The hobbit chuckled against the other's lips as he pulled away, looking about the room and being met by all of the smiles directed at him. Indeed, he would never be a dwarf. But as he felt the tingle of the king's strong lips and the clutch of his warm hands, he couldn't help but be glad he was who he was; a simple hobbit from Bag End, unprepared and under qualified to be a burglar, who had fallen reciprocally in love with the king under the mountain. 

And that is all they could ever wish to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> **Please remember that even though this is the ending chapter, there _will be_ an essential epilogue posted soon. Stay tuned and thanks for reading!


	10. There and Back Again

It was a normal day, as plain and easy as any other day Bilbo laid in an armchair, smoking a pipe. The furnaces were roaring, the hammers were striking, and the halls were filled with dwarves laughing heartily and joyously as they made their ways about the day. He was content in one of the great rooms, resting with his feet up and studying a small treasure in his hands. He smiled at it fondly and rolled over it with his finger tips, not really thinking of much as he did. He took a contented breath and sighed peacefully, forming a smoke ring as he did and watching it float up and disintegrate. It was a normal day, and it was absolutely lovely.

From the back of the room he heard a set of heavy footsteps enter and remained still, smile widening on his face as he instantly recognized them. In a moment, just as predicted, a set of warm arms crossed over his arms and a chin rests on his shoulder. 

"What is it you've got there, Master Baggins?" A familiar voice rumbled lowly beside his ear, beard brushing against his neck. 

The hobbit looked to the figure and held up the piece in his hand; the acorn he had taken from Beorn's house. The other blinked in surprise and plucked it from his fingers, examining it carefully in remembrance of what it had meant to the burglar. 

"You haven't planted it?" 

"I haven't found a place for it yet." Bilbo explained easily with a shrug. "I wanted to put it somewhere special, you know? I wanted it to grow in splendor where everyone could see but no one could reach it, could harm it." 

Thorin hummed for a moment in thought and straightened, clutching the seed in his hand. "Come with me." 

The hobbit looked to him curiously but complied, standing and following the king out of the room. They walked through the halls and past the the pantries, retrieving a pail of water before going through a much more narrow corridor, one that Bilbo had not yet seen. Thorin led them through a maze of forgotten pathways and flights of unused stairs, climbing higher and higher into the mountain. 

"Few dwarves take notice of this passage way," Thorin explained as they reached the end of his lead, coming to an opening in the mountain that streamed with bright sunlight. "I can assure you no one would ever come looking for it." 

Bilbo blinked harshly as they stepped outside, then gasped suddenly and eyes widening as he looked around. He could see everything from lake town to even beyond the forest of Mirkwood, incredibly vast as they watched out from high above. They stood at the summit of Erebor. 

He grinned in wild disbelief before taking account of the ground beneath them. It was covered in grass and earth, not stone like he would have believed, and felt incredibly soft under his feet as if it had never been touched. 

"No one will ever reach it up here, but all will see it's glory." Thorin smiled and stepped infront of his hobbit, passing him his small treasure once more along with the pail. "Plant your tree Bilbo, so we together can watch it grow." 

Bilbo took the things given to him and smiled up at the king, unendingly amazing by all he provided to him. "Plant it with me." 

"I don't think that would be wise." Thorin said with a small shake of his head, a bit amused. "I'm not much of a gardener." 

"Yeah, but I wasn't much of a burglar, was I?" The hobbit took the dwarf's hand with the acorn between them, kneeling easily and pulling the other down with him. "I'll show you." 

The king complied and followed his burglar's instruction, kneeling into the dirt and watching him carefully. Having no shovel or trowel, Bilbo began to create a small hole with this hands, separating a neat space that was not too deep nor too shallow. He laid the treasure carefully inside and brought his hands over that of the dwarf's, guiding in pressing the dirt gently back over the hole and sealing it completely. Naturally Thorin's hands were heavier on the delicate soil than the hobbit's, but Bilbo merely took them in gentle hands and eased them up, being sure to give a smile of reassurance as they smoothed over the pod. 

He then reached for the water, pouring it easily over the ground and watching it sink into the dirt. As from much experience, he poured just the right amount before drawing it back, pressing the soil a little tighter into the ground before standing. He smiled down at his work and then the dwarf, offering a hand. The king took it appreciatively and and joined him at his side, resting his hand on the small of the other's back as he took looked to the ground. He waited for several moments, watching as the hobbit did, but in seeing no change he began to worry. 

"Have we done something wrong?" He asked, the tone in his voice clearly having become disheartened. Bilbo turned to him questionably, seeing his fret, and a moment later began laughing. This only seemed to confuse him more. "Why are you laughing?" 

The hobbit covered his mouth, trying to smoother his chuckles in an attempt to not be rude. "These things take time, Thorin." He explained, taking a deep breath and smiling to the king. "An oak tree will take many years to grow. It will be some time before it even appears out of the ground, but it will grow, and it will be as magnificent as the dwarf that planted it." 

Thorin smiled warmly and drew his buglar closer to him. "It wasn't just a dwarf, Master Baggins, it was more his hobbit than anything." 

Bilbo returned the expression and draped his arm just beneath the other's shoulders. " _We_ planted it. And I hope to be here even when it becomes very old." 

"I undoubtedly know you will." The king bent down and placed a small kiss on the others temple, pulling back to look at him. "It has been awhile since we've last seen Mirkwood. I am needing to go again, if you care to join me." 

"Of course. I'm sure Thranduil will be missing his books, as I will." 

"Let us go then." Thorin began leading their way back through the narrow corridors of the mountain. "There are still spiders, as you know. Be sure to grab the Sting before we depart." 

Bilbo blinked up to him in surprise, still unsure of what he had heard. "The Sting?" 

The dwarf turned to him, studying his features. "Is that not what you had called it?" 

"Well, it _is_ , but I thought only swords that have done greatly in battle were remembered by their names." 

"Did the Sting not serve you in saving an entire company and battling a horde of Mirkwood spiders?" 

The hobbit thought for a moment, surprised by how that sounded when said aloud. "I suppose you're right." He smiled, contented for a moment before a question crossed his mind. "Do you believe 'The Sting' is a good enough name for it?" 

"I think it's a fine name..." Thorin smirked. "for a letter opener." 

Bilbo scoffed and shoved him a bit, earning a laugh from either end as he began to argue his sword was _not_ a letter opener. After a moment he rested back easily in the grasp of the dwarf, enjoying the warmth and the comfort that came with it. He sighed in contentment as they passed familiar faces in the main hall, all of which were bright and quirky. Thorin waited patiently in his doorway as he gathered his things, being carefully with the borrowed books and setting his blade at his hip. When he finished he returned to the dwarf's side, walking easily in time with him as they made simple conversation with no real purpose behind. He was sure the smile that laid on his face would be forever permanent. It was a normal day, and he knew in his standing, his king by his side and their tree beginning to grow, he would never wish for anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And like that, the story was complete. If I made you cry during any of this, I'm not going to apologize (sorry) but I would really love to know so please feel free to leave me your opinions below. 
> 
> By request, I've decided I'm going to write a sequel to this story; however, I'm not sure how long it will be or when I will start it, as I have a little list of other fics I've been dying to start. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading through this entire piece and leaving me all your lovely comments. You are all the treasure of my mountain (I know that was lame. Sorry.) and I'll be looking forward to writing for you again soon. :]
> 
> ~RainiDayz


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